


The Thrill And The Hurting

by libertyelyot



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bondage, But so is the OFC so fair enough, F/M, Hux is a kinky so-and-so, In-Laws From Hell, Slow Burn Romance but Fast Burn Sex, Spanking, The Old Favourite Arranged Marriage Trope, etc. - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6964681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libertyelyot/pseuds/libertyelyot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wants financial backing for her research. He wants a wife with old Imperial blood. Their arrangement is mutually beneficial, but hardly romantic. So Lilani Tarkin (aka Granddaughter Moff Tarkin, or 'Moff' for short) doesn't expect her relationship with General Hux to be much more than a matter of cold, hard convenience.</p>
<p>But when they scratch each other's surface, they find much more than they bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, dearly beloved, to my new project. Title is taken from the Kate Bush track 'Never Be Mine' from her album 'The Sensual World', which I'm listening to a LOT right now, despite the way it rips my heart out every single time. Stupid heart.
> 
> I'm not an expert on the SW universe, just doing what I can to eke out Hux's 3 minutes of screen time until episode VIII. Let me know if I make any catastrophic errors.
> 
> The story starts shortly before the events of TFA, but is going to veer in an AU direction, unluckily for the Resistance...

Underneath the neat winged cap, his face seemed to glow with a luminous, unnatural pallor, lending his sea-glassy eyes a slightly mad look. But perhaps that was just a problem with the lighting.

“Is he anaemic? He looks anaemic,” said Fayell, dipping her fingers into the sherbet bowl and sucking the sugar crystals off.

“Ssh.” I flapped my fingers at her. “Listen to what he says.”

He opened his mouth to speak. He had a nice mouth; I had to give him that. Kissable, even. But its lush, full-lipped beauty was soon twisted by the molten stream of rhetoric that poured out of it. He blasted out a mix of vision and invective with such passionate force that I imagined standing in front of him for real and being literally blown away by it. If the camera panned to the stormtroopers, they might be bending backwards like saplings in a storm. Or wiping the froth off their armour.

“ **There will be no power above the power we wield** ,” he avowed. “ **We bow to no-one, we answer to no-one, we yield to no-one. We are the First Order, and the galaxy is ours for the taking.** ”

The stormtroopers saluted as one, and the screening ended with an anticlimactic ping.

I looked at Fayell, dreading her opinion, leaving the ‘Well?’ unspoken.

“He seems…nice,” she said.

Our tremulous giggles turned to cackles, then full-on, painful, gasping sobs of laughter. Well, sobs, anyway. Not sure if laughter was what it really was, in my case.

“Ohhhh Sith,” I quavered, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes to clear them of tears. “Kriffing hell.”

“So, I’m waiting for the punchline,” said Fayell, her brows drawn tight.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, come on. You’ve shown me this vid, saying that you want to introduce me to the man you’re going to marry. You’re obviously not serious. So…?”

“Ah, Fay,” I sighed, my spirits dropping suddenly to the floor like a balloon burst in mid-air. “That’s the thing. I _am_ serious.”

She was silent and still for so long I began to suspect catatonia.

Eventually, she twitched. “You’re not,” she said. “Moff. You don’t mean this.”

“I wish I didn’t. But I’m forced into a corner. If I marry this guy, his family will fund my research. If I don’t, then nobody will. You know I’ve tried everything else. I’ve approached everyone. I’ve applied for every grant. I’ve offered to work part-time at every Institute to fund my own way through. And got nowhere, nowhere, nowhere.”

“Of course you haven’t, because nobody wants to listen to what you’re saying, it’s too controversial…”

“Nobody except these guys.” I waved at the now blank screen. “They’re _very_ interested. And they’ll fund me.”

“Who even are they?”

“Oh, just some bunch of losers who still cling on to the old ideals of my grandfather and people like him.”

“Your grandfather? What, like, the Empire?” Fayell sucked slowly on her sherbet-coated fingers, her eyes like sceptical saucers.

“Yeah, they think the Empire was a good thing. Just a bunch of crackpots hiding out off grid, playing soldiers. But rich crackpots. Who will fund me.”

“But…take their money, by all means, but don’t _marry into_ them, for fuck’s sake! Are you really going to do that?”

“It’s a condition,” I said, trying my best to sound worldly-wise and businesslike. “I have something they want, they have something I want. It’s mutually beneficial.”

“What do they want from you?”

“Just my lineage, basically,” I said. “They want Granddaughter Moff Tarkin for their bright young hope there.”

“But that’s really…that’s like the old days of marriage bargains and bloodlines and all that.”

“That’s what they’re like.” I shrugged, but my shoulders were shaking, destroying the nonchalant effect.

“Oh, Moff,” whispered Fayell, reaching out for my hand. “Don’t do this. It’s the maddest thing I ever heard. I can’t let you do it.” She eyed me sideways. “Ohhh kriff, you’re going to clap your hands any minute now and shout ‘Gotcha!’, aren’t you? I’m such a fucking sucker. Gullible Gulfar, that’s what they called me at the orphanage, do you remember?”

“Yeah.”

“So it’s a joke?” she said hopefully.

I shut my eyes. I willed it to be true.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just a joke.”

 

Later, when she was asleep, I took out my datapad and saw that I had a new message from Commandant Brendol Hux.

“ _Further to your communication of 3.3..556_. _We appreciate your concerns regarding the timeframe involved in bringing this project to completion_.”

No ‘Dear Ms Tarkin’, then. And ‘this project’, wow.

“ _I am sure you will understand that my son is a very busy man and has not been able to find a window in his schedule for any preliminaries_.”

Preliminaries like actually meeting me or, I don’t know, dropping me a quick message-chat.

“ _As a General of the First Order, he is frequently called upon to forego leave if his oversight is required on board ship. Recent developments have necessitated his constant presence on the_ Finalizer. _However, I am assured that he will be available to meet with you on the weekend of the 4.5..556. Please await further information from me, as security systems on board ship will only allow him to communicate via trusted sources. Best regards._ ”

Boy, what a silver-tongued charmer he was. I had to wonder if he’d passed it down the family line. I pictured myself in my new marital home being told to ‘prepare for insemination’ as my husband took a detailed reading from a fertility chart.

The thought gave me a sick feeling in my stomach.

When I’d discussed the agreement with the older Huxes, it had been made pretty clear to me that I would be expected to start having children right away. But I didn’t want children right away, or necessarily ever. I’d just nodded and smiled and constructed a little fantasy in which the younger Hux readily agreed to use a surrogate and hire whatever childcare professionals were required. After all, the whole point of this was that I got to crack on with my research. I was hardly going to be able to do that with a series of screaming babies hanging off me.

This was a desperate remedy indeed, but there really was no alternative.

I climbed into bed beside Fayell. When I’d invited her to visit for my graduation, I hadn’t told her that it was probably the last we’d ever see of each other. Commandant Hux had stipulated that this arrangement would mean leaving my old life behind – lock, stock and barrel. Another rule was that I wasn’t to tell anyone what I was doing. Well, I’d broken that one, but I felt defiantly unapologetic. Was I supposed to leave my humanity behind here as well, stuffed into a corner of the wardrobe?

Fayell moaned in her sleep and turned over, breaking into a light snore.

I scrolled down through my personal messages, finding once more the advert I’d placed in _Galactic Minds_ a few short weeks previously.

‘DESPERATELY SEEKING FUNDING. High-level psych graduate keen to research the existence and application of Yakati Mind Control has had no success in finding sponsors. Will consider proposals from interested parties, serious applicants only, please. Please reply to Lilani Tarkin @ Zyron.Institute.’

My responses had, as I’d expected, been mostly from timewasters. From the ubiquitous ‘Blow me, bitch!’ to strange and long-winded questions about my background that clearly came from obsessed fans of my famous grandfather, I’d experienced frustration after frustration.

Three days later, I’d received a link to a disposable vid-comm account, asking me to contact the owner urgently. The mysteriousness of it intrigued me, although I didn’t expect much from it – a sozzled undergrad wanking in a Darth Vader mask was the most likely outcome.

But I had the unlikeliest outcome of all – a serious offer, from a serious man.

They didn’t get much more serious than Commandant Brendol Hux.

He was dignity and authority personified, sitting in front of a carefully chosen neutral background so that all I had to focus on was his flinty-eyed face framed with thinning sandy hair.

He introduced himself right away, and a vague bell rang in my memory.

“Hux? I know that name…I think…”

“I knew your parents, Ms Tarkin. Before the unfortunate atrocity.”

“Yes, yes,” I said, grasping at thin strands of recollection. “There’s a photograph of you with them…I think I was in it.”

“You were four years old. Do you recall who else was in that photograph?”

“A boy…teenage boy. Your son, I guess?”

“That’s right. We were all very sad to hear of what happened. If only they’d agreed to come with us.”

I could only gaze at him blankly. Come with him where? I knew that my parents had settled on Coruscant after the fall of the empire, only to be assassinated by somebody whose family had died in the destruction of Alderaan. My parents had had nothing to do with the destruction of Alderaan, but apparently the Tarkin name was enough to seal their doom.

“Come with you?” I said at last, batting away a half-buried memory of standing in a marble hall looking at two coffins. The hush, the echoes, the heavy incensed air.

“Yes. My wife and I were very keen to have you and your parents settle somewhere near us, in order to consolidate our…friendship.”

“Where do you live?” I asked, wondering where all this was leading? Was this, after all, simply a man in late middle age, wanting to relive all his yesterdays, or did he want to help me?

“I hope I’ll be able to tell you, in due course,” he said, and once again I felt the tingle of mystery. “My family and I would love to meet you again after all this time.”

I smiled uncertainly. The last thing I had expected from this ad was a link to my parents, and I admit I was slightly overwhelmed.

“I’m not a man who believes in fate,” he continued, “but when my attention was drawn to your advertisement I will confess I wondered if there might be something in it.”

“Oh?” I leant forward, my heart quickening. “Are you interested in my research field?”

“Very much so. My understanding is that the Yakati variant died out with the religion and that little documentary evidence survives.”

“I spent my summer vacation last year at their ancient shrines in the Inner Rim,” I said eagerly. “And I think I’ve found something new and very significant. But none of the journals want to touch it, and I can’t interest anyone in funding additional research and analysis.”

“I imagine the Republic fear the implications, and have no use for the information. Mind control is deeply out of fashion in your arm of the galaxy these days.” He chuckled, and I felt goosebumps rise over the back of my neck. Where was it _in_ fashion? Just because I was interested in researching it didn’t mean I endorsed its use.

“I understand that,” I said. “But the suppression of knowledge does nothing to promote freedom.”

“Precisely so.” Commandant Hux beamed his approval, and the goosebumps peaked once more. “I won’t beat about the bush, Ms Tarkin. I am interested in funding you. But, as I’m sure you’re intelligent enough to realise, I will expect a return on my investment.”

“Of course.”

“First of all, I must ask if you are married.”

“Oh! No. No, I’m not.” This conversation was a succession of choppy waves, leaving me casting around for a lifebuoy every time. Why would he want to know that? Kriff, did he want to set me up as his mistress? Oh lord.

“Any children?”

“None.”

“Long term arrangements? Partnerships?”

“Nothing like that. I have a close friend – a female friend I grew up with in the orphanage. But no other close ties of that nature.”

“Excellent. I’m sorry if these questions have alarmed you. Allow me to reassure you that I have no untoward designs on you.”

Well, _that_ was a relief.

“Let me be absolutely frank with you,” he said. “And then I will give you time to consider what I have proposed. And ‘proposed’ is very much the _mot juste_.”

“Is…it?” Again, a wave of seasickness. What the hell was he about to ask me?

“I spoke of wishing your family could have lived nearer to ours. I had a very specific reason for that, which is that my wife and I always hoped you and my son might get to know each other better.”

“Your son? The boy in the photograph?” I strained my memory to capture his image. Skinny, ginger, sour-faced. And a teenager. “But isn’t he quite a lot older than me? I don’t think he’d have had any interest in a kid my age.”

“Not at that stage, perhaps,” said the Commandant. “But now you are both adults, both high achievers in your different fields, and both at that time of life…”

“That time of life?” I was being deliberately dense. I had an idea what he was going to ask, and I didn’t want to make it easy for him.

“In short, Ms Tarkin, I think you should get married. To each other.”

“You want me to marry your son?” I laughed, a little lightheaded. “And does he want that?”

“We have discussed it and he is keen for the match to take place.”

“Keen? Really? But not keen enough to contact me personally?”

“He is a high-ranking military officer in command of a flagship space vessel,” said the Commandant pompously. “His communications to land are encrypted and decrypted via a complex series of satellites, which will only transmit to favoured locations. Yours isn’t one of them. I hope you understand.”

“A high-ranking military officer? With the Republic?”

“No. Not with the Republic. But I will be able to tell you more about that when you come back to me with your thoughts. I will give you three days.”

In the end, I didn’t need three days. I needed money. I had none, and Hux had loads.

It wasn’t as if I had a wonderful life to leave behind. I had little in the way of social contact beside Fayell, and coped with my loneliness by throwing myself into study. When I thought of my future, nothing came into focus – just a swirling nebula of self-doubt and rejection. In a few weeks, I would graduate and get a job in a service hub for minimum wage. I’d have to live in a communal block, which would be noisy and stressful. If I was lucky, I might get to publish my research – done late at night after a full day’s mundane work - one day far in the future, but even then it would probably be ignored. The dean of faculty had made it very clear to me that nobody wanted to know about any form of mind control.

I gave Commandant Hux an initial expression of interest. He fed me information about my prospective groom and my new home, piecemeal, taking me to the brink of my fears and then leaving me a few days to conquer them before the next conversation. By the day of my graduation, I knew that I was going to marry a General of the First Order – an organisation I hadn’t been aware of, and rather wished I still wasn’t, but I was confident that they were a mere offshoot, more interested in parade than power, and didn’t pose a threat to the established order of things.

I would live with Commandant Hux and his wife in their compound on a habitable world in the Unknown Regions. My husband would visit me when his leave roster allowed.

This was good. I would have plenty of space. The Hux estate was large and I would have my own wing, furnished with everything I might require for my research purposes. I would have access to all the subscription journals and all the academic libraries. Commandant Hux himself might be able to pull a string or two, maybe call in some favours from erstwhile colleagues.

If it wasn’t for the whole marrying a stranger thing, the set-up was perfect. But what else was I going to do with my life? It was unlikely that I’d meet a man the standard way, not after what happened with Norvas Thring in my first year. Being sweet-talked and seduced for a bet tends to put one off the entire male sex. I hadn’t looked at another man since.

Then, if the unexpected happened and I found myself yearning for offspring, I’d have someone to provide them. Via surrogate. And with childcare support.

We might even…I mean…I might not find him completely unattractive either. I shut my eyes in the dark. _Wouldn’t it be nice to be touched again?_

Two days later, after waving Fayell off to her home planet, my wristcomm pinged.

_Incoming message from Cmdt. B. Hux._

_A shuttle pod will be waiting for you at Zyron Port tomorrow morning. Please be ready for travel. You need not pack a great deal – all necessities will be provided here._

_The Hux family – my son most of all - looks forward to meeting you._

My throat dried. This was it. This was now 100% real. Did I actually have the gumption to go ahead with it? I could call it all off at any time in the next standard day, but once I was on that shuttle, I had made a commitment.

I pinged Fayell.

_Hey, how are you? Are you on board yet?_

Minutes later.

_Just so you know, the caffa from T’merdez sucks. Don’t ever drink it. Take-off in ten. See you in summer! Xxx_

I let my arm go slack, my fingers too shaky to message back for a good few minutes. See her in summer. Never again.

I forced my fingers into rigidity and dotted out a reply.

_Safe journey. Love you, bud. Xxx_

I stood like a statue, staring out at the campus and its end-of-term languor, the towers and spires that had been the backdrop of my life for the last four years standing sharp against the pink clouds.

Goodbye to all that. Goodbye to my old life.

Hello to who knew what.


	2. The Gap Between Past And Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for all your feedback so far - I treasure it.

“So, where are we going? And how long is the journey?”

The quiet-looking grey-haired woman who had met me in the spaceport buffer zone gave me a look of mild regret.

“I am not to tell you,” she said. “Can I help you with your bags?”

“Bag,” I corrected her. I hadn’t known what to pack, what with Commandant Hux telling me I wouldn’t need anything. A change of underwear and a datapad about covered it. Oh, and six months’ supply of contraception. But that was sewn into a secret pocket. “Can’t you even tell me how long it’ll take?”

My palms were damp and I clenched them into fists. I hated space travel with a passion. How the hell people like my future husband spent months on end on board these vessels was quite beyond my understanding.

“We should make landfall within the day,” said the pilot, and my stomach groaned.

“I suppose there’ll be a hyperspace jump?” I said, bracing myself for a positive reply, which I got. “Oh kriff. They make me sick as a dog.”

“We have refresher facilities on board, and sedatives, if you’d like.”

“I would like.”

Thus I got the spend the first half of the journey in a strange and placid frame of mind, reading articles I’d saved on to my datapad before nodding off.

My dreams were weird and a bit disturbing, waking me abruptly on the other side of the hyperspace jump.

“Are we there yet?” I asked the pilot.

“Not far now,” she said. I dared a quick peek through her screen, seeing unfamiliar star systems all around me, then shrank back into the cabin. We were a long way from home. Whatever home was.

I began to wonder about the man I was coming here to meet – the same wonderings I’d had every night since this whole bizarre plot was hatched.

What if we hated each other on sight? It was hard to picture him in my mind, having only the old photograph and the video clip to go on. The video clip had opened with a panning shot of him and his colleagues, all lined up together on a stage. He had been taller than most of them, and wearing a rather covetable coat, but then the camera had focused on close-ups of his spitting fury, and any incipient attraction had faded.

But surely he couldn’t be like that all the time? I had a sudden mental image of him making his wedding vows in the same declamatory style and I snorted with laughter, even though it was more frightening than funny.

I told myself it didn’t matter. I’d hardly see the guy. A few days, four times a year. Even if he was the most repellent specimen in the galaxy, such a low level of contact was manageable. On the other hand, military men often retired early. Ugh. Perhaps we could divorce before that. After all, once he’d got an heir and a spare, my work here was done.

Not that that work was going to commence any time soon. He would have to wait until I had my new research project properly established and running like clockwork before I declared open season on my womb.

Speaking of wombs, a sudden plummeting sensation in that rough area told me that the shuttle had commenced its descent. I scrabbled for my ear defenders, waiting for the familiar pain to split my head in two. Yep, there it was.

There, also, was a totally unwelcome bout of turbulence.

“Sorry,” shouted the pilot. “This planet is more or less permanently stormy.”

“Sounds great,” I groaned, in all kinds of discomfort, wishing I could unclip my safety harness and curl up on the floor in a foetal ball.

“But you don’t have to worry. I’m very experienced. I’ll make sure we land safely.”

I think she meant her words to be more reassuring than they were. After all, landing safely was her job. She shouldn’t need to tell me she could do it.

I shut my eyes, clapped my hands over my face and prayed to the ancient Rakati gods to spare my life. I liked the Rakati prayers. They were simple, monotonous, comforting.

_I cannot be taken before my time_.

A hard beating rain clattered on the metal casings of the shuttle. I took my hands off my eyes to see the dim interior briefly and flickeringly lit up. When she said the place was stormy, she wasn’t joking.

I could hear her speaking into her communicator, spouting numbers and codes. Staticky responses, more of the same, crackled back.

The engines whooshed and growled and we ducked low, the rain-clatter suddenly ceasing.

“And we’re in,” she said, slowing us to a crawl before the shuttle halted completely. “Welcome to the Unknown Regions.”

“The Unknown Regions?” I unclipped my safety harness and peered through the window at a huge, gloomy and largely empty hangar.

“Yes. Planet’s called Rathmor. Habitable but, as I’ve said, the weather’s not too pleasant. Are you ready? You look a bit green.”

“Oh, I’ll be OK. I need to stretch my legs and breathe some non-recycled air, that’s all.”

The pilot walked with me to the far side of the hangar and into an elevator.

“Is this where the Huxes live?” I asked her.

“This is their private vehicle port,” she said. “The compound is at the top of the mountain.”

“Mountain?”

“Yes. We just flew into a mountainside.”

The elevator stopped and the door opened into a wide marble concourse, topped with a transparisteel ceiling. I supposed it might have a great view of the skies, if it wasn’t raining so hard.

The pilot handed me my bag, smiled politely, and stepped back into the elevator, leaving me quite alone in this vast chamber. It was like the lobby of a luxury hotel, and it had a fountain right in the centre. I walked towards it, wondering what I was supposed to do next. Something about the way the light played on the surface of the waters awakened some long-dormant memory.

“I’ve been here before,” I murmured.

“Indeed you have, Ms Tarkin.” I jumped back, looking sharply in the direction of the voice.

A thin, glinting knife-blade of a woman, all silver and angles, stood beneath an ornamental archway.

“Have I?” I said, wanting to retreat from her as she advanced towards me.

“Yes, but you were very young. I’m surprised you remember.”

“Oh, well, I don’t really. That fountain prompted a memory. The memory is a very interesting thing…”

“Yes, well, you’d know all about that, I suppose,” she dismissed, extending a claw-like hand. “I’m Valna Hux.”

“My future mother-in-law,” I said. We had spoken over a messaging service, but I had only seen her in the old photograph. She had been stunning then, in an unapproachable kind of way. Could have modelled, if such frivolity hadn’t been a long way beneath her. “Please call me Lilani.”

She sensed the hesitance, the slight limpness in my handshake and curled her lip disdainfully.

“You are nothing like your grandfather,” she noted.

“No. I take after my mother’s side of the family, physically.”

“The people who disowned her for marrying your father? How unfortunate.”

I stared, knowing how gormless I must look, and hating it, but unable to do otherwise.

“Disowned her? I was always told they were all dead.”

Madam Hux shrugged. “Perhaps they are, now.” She changed the subject as if it were a mere triviality, not to be dwelled upon. “But you must be tired after your journey. Let me show you to your chamber.”

I toted my bag on to my shoulder and trailed after her, craning my neck to take in my surroundings as we walked. She asked me about my journey, but I stuck to monosyllabic replies, too overwhelmed to enlarge upon them.

“Here,” she said, stopping at the end of a bright white corridor. “You will find everything you need to bathe and dress. When you are ready, please comm me.”

“Ready for what?”

“Ready to meet my son,” she said, as if this were blindingly obvious. “Dress for dinner.” She pressed the button pad by the side of the door. “He will expect you to be looking your best.”

With that, I was propelled over the threshold and left to it.

So he would expect me to be looking my best, would he? The clear implication being that my current appearance was decidedly sub par. _Bitch_ , I muttered, grimacing at myself in the floor-length mirror by the door. Way to make me feel ten times more vulnerable than I already did.

I didn’t like her already, and her son sounded even worse. And what was with the Huxes and their constant ‘my son’ schtick. Didn’t he have a name? Actually, I didn’t recall ever being told one. Perhaps ‘Myson’ was his actual name. ‘Myson Hux’. I burst into helpless giggles, noticing in the mirror that I really did look tired and dishevelled. A shower was a great idea, after all.

After the lukewarm dribble that constituted Institute accommodation plumbing, the Hux shower was blissfully magnificent. I could have stayed in there for hours, but once I started pruning up I panicked about having the skin texture of my fingertips judged and found wanting, so I stepped reluctantly out into the cloud of fragrant steam that filled the room.

The bathroom shelves were laden with the most expensive lotions and potions the galaxy had to offer. I availed myself of a few, until my skin was silk and I smelled like a Naboo garden.

In the bedroom, the wardrobe was stuffed with dream dresses – if you were the kind of person who dreamed of dresses, which I wasn’t. In fact, I hadn’t worn a dress since the orphanage princess pageant when I was six. I looked very hard for anything that wasn’t floaty and skirted, but had no joy.

Shrugging, I put on my clean underwear and decided on a slinky maxidress in a sophisticated orange and gold stripy pattern. I had sent my measurements to Commandant Hux, for the wedding dress, but apparently they had had all these numbers made for me as well, because it fitted me like a glove. It revealed a hint of cleavage without showing any of my bra, and the skirt was slit to just above the knee – sexy without taking things too far. When I wrapped a wide brown lace-up belt around my waist, I looked quite unlike the fade-into-the-background girl everybody knew. The dress transformed me from baggy-arsed student to curvaceous sex kitten. It was magic. Perhaps there was something in this wearing dresses lark after all.

At this point, I thanked my lucky stars for Fayell, who had despaired of my indifference to my own appearance and taught me a few basic hair and make-up tricks. I finger-waved my hair and put on a bit of mascara and gold shadow, remembering her mantra – ‘Keep it simple, keep it fresh’. I finished with a dab of blush and slick of gloss and pouted at myself in the mirror.

“He’s a lucky bastard,” I said, posing with my hand on my hip, then I laughed at my own stupidity. He was some kind of big-shot in this weird Unknown Regions society. He probably had raving beauties falling at his feet all the time.

Considering that I now fulfilled the ‘looking my best’ brief, I sent Madam Hux a quick comm.

Five minutes later, a droid pitched up at the door.

“I will escort you to dinner, ma’am,” it told me. “Please follow me.”

These Huxes might be loaded but they could do with a few lessons in hospitality, I thought. Sending a droid to show me around seemed on the verge of rude.

Passing an open door, I heard the unmistakable sneery tones of Madam Hux drifting through.

“She’s a pretty enough little thing, in a suburban sort of way. I had hoped she might have inherited Wilhuff’s marvellous bone structure, but alas, no.”

“I find her perfectly attractive, and I’m sure Taran will too,” replied the low tones of Commandant Hux.

_Aha, Taran._ _My son has a name._ But my heart was a big lump in my mouth and I felt sick at hearing myself discussed like this. So sick I had to stay and hear more, letting the droid get ahead of me.

“Rather dull, though,” continued Bitchfeatures. “I’m afraid she might not be a match for him intellectually, or in terms of attractiveness.”

“Does she have to be?” said the Commandant.

“No.” More a sigh than a word. “I suppose not. Imperial blood comes in all kinds of vessels.”

I stood, shaking madly, unable to move forwards or back, until the droid, reaching a corner, noticed me lagging behind.

“Madam, are you unwell?” it asked sharply.

I turned on my heel and fled in the direction of the flight hangar. Research money or no research money, I couldn’t live with these people. It was too much to ask.

With no other thought than how I was going to get someone to fly me back to Fayell on Coruscant, I tottered along on my spindly gold heels until, reaching a corner, I took it too sharply and ran slap bang into a large human obstacle.

My thoughts, after recovering from my winded shock, proceeded in this order:

  * Well, hel _loooo_.
  * That hair – that very red hair…
  * He must be…
  * Oh kriffing hell!!
  * It’s



“Oh shit, it’s you,” I blurted, hardly the best form of words for making a favourable impression.

“Yes,” he said, levelling a hard stare as he patted down the area of his shoulder my head had butted. “It’s me, if the person you mean is Taran Hux. I’m assuming you’re Lilani Tarkin.”

I nodded, miserable at the situation, but nonetheless impressed with his appearance, which was roughly 5000% better than I’d hoped for. It was a shame he was probably not having the same thoughts about me.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asked. “You’re heading in completely the wrong direction, you know.”

“Oh…am I?” I cast my eyes vaguely around me, relieved to look away from him before my entire face combusted with the heat that had built in it. “This place is so big…easy to get lost…”

He offered his arm, the gesture so precise and formal it seemed like an order: _take this_.

_Actually I’ve been having second thoughts._ But in the face of his weight of expectations, the words wouldn’t come out. Besides, they kept turning into _Actually I can’t believe how attractive you are._ And he was inviting me to touch him. Some deep-down shaken-awake part of me couldn’t resist the idea. I put my hand on his forearm, sighing internally at the firm warmth beneath the dark silk sleeve.

“Apparently I’ve been here before,” I babbled, as he strode off with me attached. “But I don’t really remember it. Do you remember it?”

“I do,” he said, glancing down at me. “You were much smaller, of course.”

“And you can’t possibly have been that tall.” I had to twist my neck to an uncomfortable angle to look back at him.

“Actually, I wasn’t far off. Fifteen. I kept growing out of my academy uniform; mother despaired. You’ve met her, I take it?”

“Mm,” I said, knowing it would be good form to say something complimentary about her, but unable to bring myself to.

“Don’t be intimidated by her,” he said, and I laughed with shocked surprise. “She likes to make sure everyone who crosses the threshold knows she’s queen bee. I think the idea of having a princess bee on her territory has been a little difficult for her. She’ll calm down in time.”

“Will she?” I said, unconvinced.

“You must let me know if she doesn’t,” he said. “I’ll speak to her.”

I wanted to swoon into his arms. He was offering to champion my cause against the fire-breathing dragon. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, and it was intoxicating.

“Thank you,” I whispered. Now I was able to voice the compliment. “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?”

He looked at me properly then, his eyes roving over my face in profile, moving down the slope of my neck into my decolletage then swiftly back up.

“Did she pick that dress out for you?” he asked.

“No, I chose it myself.”

“It suits you,” he said. “Very much.”

I shivered with excitement. Was it remotely possible that this divine creature might fancy me a bit? Or was he just being gallant, as per the form for grooms when they meet their brides?

Whether he liked it or not, he was going to have to…do things…to me, as part of our bargain. Perhaps he thought he might as well play the part, even if his real feelings amounted to flat unenthusiasm. The idea maddened me, sneaking inside my soul and spoiling my game of pretending this partnership held any kind of future promise.

The reality was that we both had a job to do here. His was to sire children, mine was to bear them. I was a brood mare, nothing more.

“It’s a nice dress,” I muttered. “Probably nicer on someone else.”

He stopped walking abruptly, frowning down at me.

“When someone compliments you, accept it, instead of fishing for more,” he scolded. The mixture of sternness and kindness in his tone weakened my legs, and I held on to his arm more tightly.

My cheeks burned.

“I wasn’t fishing,” I protested.

“I should hope not. You’ve no need, in any case.” He nodded at a door ahead of us, drawing my eye to it. “Well, here we are. Dinner for two awaits us. Shall we?”


	3. Just One Kiss Then Another

The room Hux led me into was small, with a curved floor-to-ceiling window, giving us a spectacular view of the spectacular lightning storm raging outside. My attention was caught by the constant duelling of the flashing forks, but for Hux this was apparently unworthy of attention. He continued towards the small round table-for-two in the centre of the room as if the view outside was of perfect darkness.

The table gleamed with silverware, and my heart sank a little to see such a complicated array of cutlery. The floral arrangement in the centre was more cheering; I was always relieved to know I was on a planet where things grew.

He pulled out my chair for me before taking his own place opposite. His perfect etiquette was supposed to put me at my ease, I supposed, but I found it a little unnerving. The effortless polish of it contrasted with my own orphanage manners, and I couldn’t help feeling strongly outclassed.

My conversation dried up, along with the back of my throat.

Hux took a wine bottle from a silver cooler and poured us each a glass.

“Something to remind you of sunnier climes,” he said. “We can’t grow grapes here.”

“Does it ever stop raining?”

“It’s marginally drier than my home planet of Arkanis, in fact,” he said. “But the electrical storms are in evidence for about eighty per cent of the time, so it’s rarely safe enough to set foot outdoors.”

I took a sip of the wine and nearly died of pleasure. This was several cuts above the cheap Nabooine plonk we drank in the Institute cantina.

“Kriff, this is lush!” I exclaimed, then cringed at myself for my lack of sophistication.

Daring to flick my eyes at him, I found him half-smiling. Was it amusement or contempt? Hard to tell.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said.

A droid appeared on the scene, bearing a starter that was nothing like anything I’d ever seen on a plate before.

“A local seafood delicacy,” Hux explained. “The best specimens fetch very high prices, I’m told.”

I watched him carefully to see which cutlery he went for, then copied him.

I decided to take the honest approach, rather than risk making a fool of myself pretending the high life came naturally to me.

“I’ve never had a meal like this,” I said. “I mean, tablecloths and silverware and all that.”

He raised his eyebrows, genuinely astonished.

“You haven’t? But you’re galactic aristocracy.”

“In name only. I grew up in an orphanage, and there was nothing fancy about that place, believe me. Meal times tended to end in a food fight over who got the last muffin.”

Hux stared at me. There was nothing of sympathy in it, but I couldn’t detect any hostility either.

“That’s appalling,” he said at last. “You’re Wilhuff Tarkin’s granddaughter. I never understood your parents’ motives for wanting to stay in the New Republic. If they’d joined us here, they would still be alive.”

I picked at my entrée. “I don’t know why they didn’t either,” I said. “They never discussed it with me. Well, I guess they didn’t. I was only four. I wouldn’t remember if they had.”

“If they’d come here, you and I would probably know each other well by now,” he said, more softly. “Instead of being strangers.”

He made it sound like something he yearned for, and it gave me butterflies. The thought that, pretty soon, we would know each other just about as well as two people ever did, caused them to multiply. It was important for my composure that I avoided thinking about these approaching intimacies. I’d never make it through to caffa if I started imagining his hands on me.

Lovely hands. Long slender fingers that could do all kinds of…

_Stop it!_

“So you’re a psych,” he said, perhaps sensing how his words had undone me.

“Yes,” I said, grateful for the change of subject. “Graduated just last week.”

“Does that mean you can read people?” he asked, leaning forward a little.

“To be honest,” I said, laughing nervously, “one of the reasons I chose the subject was because I’m so _bad_ at reading people. I thought it would give me a clue, make me a better judge of character.”

“And did it?”

“Maybe a little. I still tend to take things at face value, but I give more thought to people’s motives now. I mean, I was _hopelessly_ naïve. But I think I’m a bit wiser now.”

“Do you have a view on me yet?” he asked, his lip twitching upwards.

Lovely lip. Kissable mouth. How it might feel…

_Stop it!_

“Um…” I floundered. I could hardly tell him my professional instincts categorised him as drop-dead sexy, but that was about as far as my analysis had got. I took a gulp of wine, playing for time.

There were high stakes here. It was ridiculously important to me that I didn’t disappoint him.

“You think appearances are important,” I said. “And you’re precise…analytical and meticulous.”

I was quite pleased with myself, especially when he nodded in agreement.

“That’s all true,” he said. “Well done.”

I rewarded myself by draining the wine glass. The alcohol was taking the edge off my nerves, eroding my many inhibitions.

“Your chosen specialism is interesting,” he continued. “Rakati mind control. What made you think of it?”

Here at last was something on which I could speak with authority. I rattled on for a long time, and a glass and a half more of wine, about my research and the possible consequences. If Hux was bored, he didn’t show it; in fact, he prompted me with questions and comments, like the perfect interviewer.

“This is all fascinating,” he said eventually, halfway through the main course now. “I wonder if I might be able to harness your expertise for some of our projects.”

“Harness it? You mean, actually use mind control techniques?” I asked. It was as if he’d thrown his wine in my face. He couldn’t mean that, could he?

“Some of the principles might be worth exploring,” he said, his eyes narrowing. I think he’d sensed my unease. “You don’t think so?”

“Well…I don’t know. What sort of projects?”

He was silent for a moment, assessing me.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that yet,” he said eventually. “Until you’ve signed the papers.”

“What papers?”

“The secrecy pledge. All family members of high-ranking military officials have to take it. My father didn’t mention it?”

I shook my head.

“Perhaps he presumed you’d know. It’s a standard procedure. I’m sure the New Republican fleets are no different.”

“I wouldn’t know. When do I have to sign?”

“After the ceremony, along with the register.” His stern expression unbent a little, not quite a smile, but something not dissimilar. “You look so nervous. There’s really no need to be.”

“I can’t help it,” I said. “This is all so…” I waved my hands in speechless illustration.

“I understand,” he said. “It must feel very foreign to you. But you know, you are with your own people now. You are finally where you belong.”

His words struck to the very core of my insecurities. All my life – what I remembered of it – I had been the outsider, the pariah, the square peg trying desperately to force myself into the round hole. I couldn’t quite believe his implication that my surroundings would come to feel like home but, oh kriff, how I wanted to.

“I’ve never belonged anywhere,” I said, feeling the sudden urge to swallow hard.

“You didn’t belong out there,” contradicted Hux. “But you have always been missed here. And now you belong with me.”

The electric zigzags outside the window were joined by their equivalents in my inner self, which came to crackling life in the beam of his full attention.

“Do you…believe that?” I asked.

“Don’t you?”

“You don’t know me. And I don’t know you. We’ve never met before, in any meaningful sense.”

“That’s unimportant,” he said. “We have been brought together, we have agreed to a union, and now it’s up to us to strengthen the connection.”

I swirled the remnants of my wine around in my glass, staring at the amber liquid. Above us, the ceiling lights flickered as a giant bolt of lightning patterned the sky.

“Wouldn’t you have preferred to make a free choice?” I whispered.

He took the glass from my hand and set it down, making me look up at him.

“I did make a free choice,” he said firmly.

“But your parents…”

He shook his head. “Don’t think I’m some kind of puppet, Lilani.” A shiver ran down from the back of my neck at the way he spoke my name. “I am called to make far-reaching decisions almost every day of my life. I don’t allow undue influence from anybody else, whether those decisions relate to my work or my personal life. This is no different. I have chosen you, and I will stand by my choice.” He inched his hand across the table until his fingertips brushed mine. A jolt of static shot through me. “I was hoping you felt the same,” he said, more quietly.

“I…feelings weren’t really involved,” I stammered, helplessly watching him entwine my fingers in his. “It was a practical…it seemed like the sensible thing to do…”

His thumb stroked pins-and-needles across my knuckles.

“I admire that,” he said. “The emotional incontinence of the New Republic hasn’t tainted you. But I hope you will allow yourself to open up to me now that we are together.”

I was more or less wide open as it was. He had shoved some kind of key between my ribs, pulled them apart, taken out my heart and now held it like a plaything in the palm of his hand.

I had never expected to have feelings for a man again, but there it was. He had got inside me in a matter of minutes and now I was well and truly on the hook.

And I didn’t even have to wonder if he’d call.

“I’ll try,” I said, but I felt as transparent as the toughened glass all around us. It must be obvious to him that I was a trembling mass of hormonal crush, since my body seemed incapable of covering its signals. My pupils were probably bigger than the dinner plates by now.

“Good girl,” he said softly, tightening his grip on my fingers, and instead of feeling affronted or patronised – as my brain told me I should – I felt a pulse of excitement right between my legs.

Oh sweet Sith. What had he done to me? I was as giddy as a paper windmill in a hurricane.

“So,” he said, releasing me. “What was the other reason?”

“The…?” I was completely lost now. I could think of nothing but his arms around me and his mouth on mine. When was it going to happen? Tonight? After dessert? Now?

“You said one reason for studying psychology was so you could understand people better. What was the other reason? Or reasons?”

“Oh,” I said, working like fury to revert from sex-mad mode to polite dinner-chat mode. “Er. Well, I really wanted to understand _myself_.”

“In what way?” Hux leant back, lazily amused, reminding me of a cat letting the mouse run a final few circles before making the final pounce.

“I grew up knowing what my grandfather had done…” I swallowed, my nerves in full fettle, unable to look him in the eye. “And I suppose I always worried that I might have it in me…”

“You might have it in you?” Hux wasn’t following me.

I bit my lip, willing him to understand.

“I mean, can you imagine giving the order to destroy an entire world?”

Bowing my head, I hoped he wouldn’t recoil from me, as I sometimes wanted to recoil from myself, disgusted by what might lurk in my genetic make-up.

He didn’t recoil, but he didn’t reply either. He gave me a long, blank look then he turned away, looking out into the angry night.

I took the chance to examine his profile, trying to understand what it was about him I found so appealing. If Fayell were here, she would laugh at me. _How can you fancy him? So thin and pale, and that weird hair!_ Well, she was welcome to her testosterone-bound beefcakes. They had never done much for me. I drank in his sharp cheekbones, his long sandy eyelashes, his neat red sideburns and found it all extraordinarily pleasing to my aesthetic sensibilities.

His silence unnerved me and I reached for the almost-empty wine bottle. He snatched it from me, his reflexes as quick as the lightning outside.

“I think perhaps you’ve had enough,” he said.

A combination of outrage and embarrassment fought for dominance, but neither of them won out. I couldn’t decide whether to be angry or ashamed, so I settled for being pathetic instead.

“Oh,” I whispered, suddenly teary again. I’d made a fool of myself. He thought I was a hopeless drunk.

“You don’t want to be hungover on your wedding day,” he said, his tone shifting from admonitory to appeasing.

“On…what? Tomorrow? What?”

“Yes, didn’t you know? The ceremony is taking place tomorrow. The guests will be arriving as we speak.”

“But…tomorrow?” I seemed to be stuck in a loop. “It’s so soon.”

“I don’t get much in the way of leave,” he said. “I have three more days before I have to return to my ship. I didn’t see much point in waiting, under the circumstances.”

“No,” I said faintly. “No, I suppose not.”

“You’ll need your sleep,” he said, the implication of his words tugging at the pit of my belly. _Because you won’t get much tomorrow._ A frisson fizzed through me. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

I pushed my chair back and rose to my feet, just as a particularly ferocious bolt of lightning struck so close that all the lights went off and we were left in the mildly flickering dark.

“Oh Sith,” I muttered, grabbing hold of the table, trying to place Hux, who had begun to stand up just as the lightning struck. “Where are you? Where am I?”

I tripped on something – the table leg? His toes? – and found myself falling, banging my thigh against something hard, then caught in a tangle of limbs until I landed squarely in what could only be Hux’s lap. I grabbed hold of whatever I could – an arm, a shoulder – while he steadied me around my waist. My face rubbed up against skin, a bit sandpapery, his chin or cheek. Hot breath on my mouth.

“I’m…” I began, but he shushed me quickly, and then any further words were sealed and silenced by his lips.

Apparently no apology was necessary.

So this was kissing. I’d forgotten how deeply, sweetly, swooningly good it was…or had it just not felt this good before? He held me tight and kissed me with a tender consideration that turned swiftly into something hungrier. My heart pounded and I clung to him, afraid of it ending too soon. And quite frankly ‘too soon’ was ‘ever’.

The thunder rolled and growled around us, occasional flashes lightening the back of my eyelids, but nothing would make me open my eyes now. I was sucked into this elemental sensuality, unable to defy its intoxication. His fingers found the back of my neck and he held me in place, parting my  lips with the tip of his tongue. I yielded easily to the first hint of pressure, all my prim barriers crumbling into an eager landslide.

It was about more than pleasure, as well – a lost and lonely part of me luxuriated in the feeling of being wanted. _So this is how it feels_. No rug to be pulled out from under me, as with the egregious Thring – this man would be my husband. He had no reason to play games. The blissful straightforwardness of it all made my nerves relax into pure enjoyment.

Even better, he seemed to be enjoying it every bit as much as I was, if the steadily hardening lump underneath me was anything to go by. I wriggled slightly on top of it; he shoved his tongue way down and growled, tightening his hold on me.

The lights glared back on with unwelcome brightness, causing us both to open our eyes and break the kiss, panting slightly, chest heaving against chest.

A droid loomed over us, casting a shadow on our entwined bodies.

“Was everything to your satisfaction, sir?” it asked.

Hux cleared his throat before answering, “Perfectly.”

It began to clear the table.

Hux nudged me silently off his lap. Finding my feet was hard when my legs had basically melted, but he lent me his arm as support and led me out of the room without further remark.

My head was spinning as we negotiated the circuitous route back to my room. My lips tingled and the inside of my mouth felt strange, as if it was no longer my own any more.

He had changed something in me.

“I’ve always hated that droid,” he muttered, just before we came to a halt in front of a door I eventually recognised as belonging to my chamber. “Well, here we are.”

I could barely manage to look him in the eye. The air between us simmered with unspoken thoughts. I wanted to say a thousand things, but I couldn’t pin any of them down.

_Kiss me again_ was what it all amounted to.

His lips quirked – his lips that were imprinted with mine – and he put a hand to my cheek, his thumb stroking slowly along my jawline. His eyes nailed me to the door, holding me there until he bent and touched his mouth to mine again. I shut my eyes, trying to transmit my longing for everything he had to give through the pores of my skin.

But he gave me only enough to leave me mad for more, drawing back and giving me one long, piercing look of knee-trembling lust before bidding me goodnight.

“Sleep well, my love,” he said, and the words were low, like a caress, but also a threat.

I watched his back as he moved along the corridor, finally allowing my legs to give way beneath me and my spine to slide down the door, depositing me in a ragdoll flop on the floor.

Maybe tomorrow wasn’t too soon. Maybe it wasn’t soon enough.


	4. I Should Be Hoping But I Can't Stop Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all who are reading and commenting - I'm looking forward to the wedding night every bit as much as anyone. But first we have the Terrifying First Order Wedding Ceremony to get through...

Hux’s exhortation to get plenty of sleep proved unavailing.

I lay in my bed, hugging myself in a kind of frightened rapture, reliving his ghostly caressses on my skin. The parts of me he had touched burned as if marked. He had taken my body out of my possession and into his.

How had this happened, so quickly and without warning? I barely knew him, but we had a connection fathoms deeper than anything indicated by our dinner conversation.

_You belong with me_ , he had said, and I felt it at my core.

Time and again, I told myself that I was exhausted from the journey, alone in a strange place, vulnerable, needing that spark of friendliness to keep my soul from freezing. I wanted to like him – needed to like him – and so perhaps my subconscious had done the pragmatic thing by making me feel an attraction that was essentially false.

As for him, he had what he wanted – a Tarkin. As long as I didn’t have the physical characteristics of a Hutt, he was probably happy enough. I could have been any woman, and he would have treated me the same.

Yet I could argue these points until my brain collapsed and my eyes fell out of my head, and still not believe them. Those kisses had contained a kind of violence, the thing they called passion. He hadn’t needed to kiss me like that; a chaste peck was as much as the contract required.

Indeed, such kissing might have scared many a young woman off.

Not this one, though.

I sighed and pressed my thighs together tight, resisting the temptation to move my hand down between them. The notion of saving oneself for the wedding night was archaic, but something made me want to uphold this long-dead tradition. The anticipation was like wire inside me, pulling me taut. When he touched me again, I would burst.

I managed a series of brief, semi-delirious dozes but was thick-headed and groggy as anything when a domestic droid came in and opened the shutters.

“It can’t be morning,” I groaned, though the night hours had stretched out like elastic and I felt as if I’d lain in this bed since sometime last year.

“Zero eight zero hours, ma’am, on your wedding day,” it confirmed. “Breakfast will be brought to you very shortly.”

“Thank you.” I lay back against my bank of pillows, thinking of Hux waking up to the same day. What were his thoughts? I wanted to send my brain waves across the house to pick up his transmission.

The breakfast arrived with the unwelcome addition of Madam Hux. She carried a long opaque dress shield, which she laid over a chair before coming to sit beside me, putting me right off my summer fruit crepes.

“You don’t look well rested,” she said disapprovingly. “Didn’t you sleep?”

“Not much,” I admitted.

She tutted. “Well, that’s a great pity. You can’t walk up the aisle with those black smudges under your eyes. Fortunately I have engaged the best beautician in the Regions – if anyone can work miracles, she can. Eat up, now, and we’ll make a start on preparations.”

As soon as the last forkful was despatched, she sent me into the shower. By the time I emerged, a whole gang of women with trolleys full of equipment sat around the room chattering quietly under the supervision of my soon-to-be mother-in-law.

I had nothing to do for the next few hours but be manipulated, styled, painted, perfumed and primped like a doll, sitting in silence while the company spoke over my head about the catering, the guests, the many and various arrangements that had to be made for a wedding on this scale.

My existence was acknowledged only two or three times. My opinion on hair and make-up was not required, as Madam Hux was in absolute charge of proceedings. If I didn’t like what they were doing, it was tough.

“Her hair is rather heavy, don’t stint with the pins,” she would say, or, “Goodness, yes, she needs plenty of eyebright. And just look at the dull tone of that skin.” I was an inferior object, there to be improved.

The first time she addressed me directly, I was sitting beneath a hairdryer cone, waiting for my elaborate style to set, ready to have all kinds of flowers and gems threaded into it.

“What did you make of my son?” she asked.

I was grateful then for the heat of the dryer; my cheeks were already quite red.

“We had a good evening,” I said.

“He seemed happy enough, at any rate,” she said, gathering her lips in a tight little line.

“How is he this morning?”

“Oh, I haven’t seen him since last night. The men and women remain separate until the ceremony. Didn’t you know?”

“I’ve never been to a wedding.”

“Never?” She was scandalised. “I suppose they don’t uphold the old traditions in the New Republic anyway. I daresay it’s all mixing over breakfast there.”

“Maybe. But he seemed happy, you said?” I held this little snippet to my heart.

“Happy enough,” she corrected. “I hope you will be a good wife to him.”

“I’ll do my best,” I murmured, hoping that ‘doing my best’ would consist of spending every waking hour underneath him.

“Now,” she said, pulling the dryer cone off me. “Let’s get you dressed before we make the final adjustments. Kari, the screen.”

One of her minions arranged for a thin, dark partition to descend from the ceiling while another moved a long mirror on wheels behind it. I was ushered into the small private space this arrangement provided, the aforementioned Kari following me with a number of tissue-wrapped parcels.

“Put these on first,” she suggested, handing me two of the parcels. “Then call for me. You’ll need help with the corset.”

I held the little bundles against my chest, grimacing at the word ‘corset’. I’d never worn such an item, and hadn’t ever planned on changing that situation. Surely they were only worn by women who spent a lot of time hanging around spaceports – hardly appropriate attire for marrying a high-ranking military man. Perhaps they meant something else…

I waited for Kari to sidle out of view and unwrapped the first of the packages. It was so light, I couldn’t believe anything was actually in there, but eventually I came upon a tiny scrap of almost-sheer fabric, embroidered with minuscule seed pearls. How the hell anyone could sew anything into this gossamer stuff was beyond me, but someone had managed it, and I tipped my metaphorical hat to them. But what actually was it? It took me longer than it should have done to discover that this was a pair of knickers.

“Seriously?” I whispered, holding the whisper-thin garment up in front of my face.

The thought of Hux seeing me in these gave me a funny flipping feeling in my stomach. I put them on with anxious care, convinced I was going to rip them before I got them as far as my knees. My luck held out, however, and I succeeded in getting them all the way up. In the mirror, it looked as if somebody had stuck the pearls to strategic parts of my body, so invisibly thin was the fabric. The effect was extremely daring and I saw my cheeks flush pink beneath the heavy layer of foundation the stylist had plastered on. When I twisted round to examine my back view, I had a pearly flower in the centre of each bottom cheek, and an elaborately patterned line running down between them.

The next parcel contained a suspender belt of the same pearl-strewn material (bar the elastics and snaps) and a pair of sheer silk stockings. With my lower half thus scandalously clad, I put my bathrobe back on and drew it tightly over my chest. The time had come for the corset, but I didn’t want that Kari woman ogling my nearly-naked body. Surely I could try putting it on by myself?

“I’m ready for the corset,” I ventured.

When Kari appeared, I reached for the package.

“I’m pretty sure I can put it on by myself,” I said.

She shook her head apologetically.

“I’m afraid you can’t. It has to be laced in a particular way. You won’t be able to do it.”

“Couldn’t I lace it up the front and then kind of jiggle it round?” I pleaded.

“No,” she insisted. “There’s no need to be shy. Every woman here has been through the same ritual. Nobody’s going to make a big deal of it if you don’t.”

I turned away, wrapping my arms around my ribs.

“OK,” said Kari. “Let’s put it this way. Either I fit the corset on you, or I get Madam Hux to do it.”

_Bastard lord of the Sith, no!_

My shoulders slumped and I let the robe slide, with reluctant slowness, over my shoulders and down my arms.

“Quick then, put it on,” I muttered.

She was mercifully swift and dexterous, and my bare breasts were constrained in their tight bead-scattered cups within seconds. The corset’s white satin-covered bones were the most substantial parts of it; in between them stretched the same semi-transparent pearl-embroidered fabric I was wearing elsewhere on my body.

I watched in the mirror as Kari worked on the ribbon laces behind me, noticing the slow, inexorable uplift of my breasts until they were perfect rounds spilling luxuriantly from their demi-cups. Virginal white it might be, but this underwear was designed to display my readiness for sex, and I cringed to think that Kari knew what was in store for me when it came off, then felt a crawling heat along my hairline as I imagined it myself.

I squeaked as she pulled the laces unforgivingly tight.

“It’s all right,” she soothed. “Almost done. Just need to tie the lovers’ knot.”

“Lovers’ knot?”

“Only your groom can unfasten it,” she said. “It’s designed to be impossible for the wearer to undo. So if you get cold feet at the last minute…” She laughed. “You’d better be very sure you want to wear this corset for the rest of your life.”

“Wow,” I said. This was one of those traditions everyone thought was cute but was actually incredibly creepy. I wondered if I’d stumble across many more before the day was out.

“There,” she said, stepping back. “You’re done. I’ll go and get the dress.”

I stared into the mirror, trying to see myself as Hux would see me, once all the ceremonial stuff was over and we were alone. The thought of being so exposed to him was simultaneously frightening and arousing. I would have none of the defences I’d had last night, no covering, nowhere to hide.

And what if, after all, he didn’t like what he saw? What if he preferred taller, thinner, flatter, bustier, more athletic, more tanned…? _You belong with me now_ floated into my head, aiding me in dismissing my unhelpful mindset. He believed that. A possible preference for DD cups wasn’t going to change his view.

The dress, close fitting and exquisitely worked in delicate tulle and lace, moulded to my corseted form as if I’d been poured into it. When I came out to have the final embellishments woven into my hair, the stylists applauded. Even Madam Hux looked a mite less sour.

“You look very good,” she conceded. “I chose my bridal atelier well.”

Of course, it all had to be down to her.

Hair sparkles and spindly silver-threaded heels dealt with, I was deemed fit to be presented as a Hux bride. My future mother-in-law linked cold, bony fingers with mine and led me, stylists following in train, out of the room.

As we processed along the corridors, we were joined by other women, slipping through side doors to add to our retinue. In due course, we numbered at least a hundred, skirts swishing and exotic headgear bobbing. Conflicting perfumes swirled around us, and jewellery flashed with the lightning strikes that still persisted through the windows.

Eventually the corridor broadened out, gradually, like a funnel, leading towards a wide curtained arch at its far end. As we approached this arch, the women following behind began to overtake us, passing through the drapes.

Madam Hux stood silent and motionless at my side, waiting for them all to drain away and leave us alone. Only when the last expensively-dressed well-wisher had crossed the fluttering barrier were we able to move again.

“Is this it?” I asked, thrown into a vortex of nerves by all this ceremonial activity that everyone but me seemed familiar with.

“If, by ‘it’, you mean the marriage chamber, then yes, we have arrived. We wait a second or two for one of our train to come back and tell us if the men are not yet present. But nobody has come back, so it seems that they are…”

She took a step forward. My shoes seemed to have had lead insoles put in them, and I lurched haltingly along with her.

“Shoulders back,” hissed Madam Hux. “ _Gracefully_.”

At the curtain, she took a handbell from her belt and rang it. The delicate chime coincided with the drawing apart of the drapes and I stood on the threshold, feeling as if I were on the edge of a cliff.

The room beyond was vast. A colourful chaos of giant floral arrangements and gorgeously-dressed guests met my fevered eye. Within seconds, the people fell into neat ranks, revealing the path I was to take through them towards the raised dais at the far end.

It was such a long way away that I had difficulty identifying my groom at first, but eventually I spotted him, a distant figure in a white and gold dress uniform, rigidly straight-backed and facing away from me. Beside him, in a blue and red uniform, stood his father.

There were hundreds of people here, possibly as many as a thousand, and all of them strangers to me. Madam Hux set a slow, stately pace, holding my hand up at shoulder height as we cut through the gawping crowds.

I kept hearing whispers of ‘Tarkin’ all the way along. I was being compared, judged, assessed. The urge to break free of Madam Hux and hide away from it all was strong. I had never been looked at like this, so intently and on such a scale, and I didn’t much like it.

Somewhere ahead of us, a brassy fanfare struck up but I couldn’t see the instrumentalists. At least it drowned out the growing murmurs. I supposed the guests intended to be friendly and supportive, but it was still freaking me out.

Many, many ages later, we arrived before the altar. The celebrant, an elderly, rather shrivelled woman, squinted cheerfully at me. I kept my eyes low, unable to communicate with anyone in any way until this intense spotlight was off me.

I drew level with Hux, whose bright whiteness matched my own but added a welcome dash of colour in the form of his hair. I risked a sidelong look. He sidelong-looked back, and his eye twitched into the merest hint of a wink. I drew a breath. I’d forgotten to do that all the way up the aisle and it came out as a sigh. He moved his arm, almost infinitesimally, but just enough that his little finger brushed mine.

Behind the altar, a huge banner hung from the ceiling, black with a red logo on it. A hexagon with a circle inside, and jagged teeth running around the inner perimeter of the circle. I wondered if it was some kind of family crest, but I didn’t wonder for long. The extreme proximity of General Hux was too distracting for that.

“A glorious day has dawned,” said the celebrant, so suddenly and loudly that I flinched. Hux tapped the side of my finger with his, a gesture both calming and admonitory. “A day that unites two distinguished and historic families, mainstays of our old Empire, and pioneers of that which is to come.”

_That which is to come? A new Empire?_ I wanted to make questioning eye contact with somebody, but knew it would be rebuffed.

“The joining together of Hux and Tarkin signifies a beginning,” she continued. “In union we find strength, and the wherewithal to multiply our numbers. Taran and Lilani are our template and our exemplar. Their bond, and the issue that will spring from it, are a living demonstration of the power of our Order. The qualities that will buoy them through their marriage – loyalty, duty, self-sacrifice – are the qualities that will lead us all to victory.”

This wasn’t the marriage service I’d expected. Loyalty, duty and self-sacrifice? What about love, trust, kindness? Would they be mentioned later? I wasn’t sure I wanted my marriage to be an extended political metaphor.

“We will look to Taran and Lilani as leaders and models,” said the celebrant, and I nearly laughed out loud. In no way could I ever be described as either of those. “They have made common cause, for the good of our Order, and we offer them our unfailing support and gratitude.”

The guests did something then, a kind of salute thing, combined with a stamping of feet, in almost perfect unison. It was impressive, but also sinister.

The celebrant beckoned us closer.

Hux took a step forward, and so did I, but I could barely feel my legs beneath me.

All I could think was _Can I go home now, please?_

Perhaps I hadn’t thought this through after all.

 


	5. They Say The Devil Is A Charming Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lilani's got herself in deep here... I'm loving all your thoughts and reactions, please keep them coming!

It was just as well Hux knew the drill because I had no idea what was going to happen next. He manoeuvred us so that we were standing across from one another, at an angle that allowed us to still face the celebrant. Our hands were joined and crossed over at the wrists; I focused bleakly on the fingers I had fantasised about the previous night, now mixed up with mine.

Something I couldn’t quite identify made me reluctant to look at his face. Standing so close to him, I’d need to crane my neck anyway. It was easier to keep my eyes down and try to forget that we were being watched by masses of people.

“You will make your vows,” said the celebrant, raising her arms in some kind of all-embracing gesture.

But what _were_ the vows? What was I supposed to say or do? This was like some hideous anxiety dream. I wouldn’t have been surprised to find myself suddenly naked.

Hux cleared his throat, but didn’t begin to speak. I realised why when he dropped one of my hands and used the tip of a finger to lift my chin so that my eyes were forced to meet his.

There was a ripple of amusement from the crowd, and I felt sick with humiliation.

He caught my free hand again, took a moment to squeeze it encouragingly, then opened his mouth to speak.

“I declare before all that I am General Taran Hux, and I take Lilani Tarkin as my wife. I shall be her shield and defender, her guide in life and the father of her children. I promise her constancy, commitment and the consolations of intimacy. All that is in my power to give shall be hers.”

Well, the consolations of intimacy sounded all right but I wasn’t sure about the guiding bit. I hoped I was old enough by now to find my own way around. The ‘father of her children’ line shook me too; it made everything seem so real, where before it had been hazy and insubstantial. My life was changing, definitively and inescapably. There was nowhere to run now.

The celebrant held up a card in front of me, indicating that I was to recite what was written on it.

This gave me an excuse to duck away from Hux’s piercing gaze, although it was still there, menacing my peripheral vision, as I read.

“I declare before all that I am Lilani Tarkin, and I accept General Taran Hux as my husband. I shall be his place of shelter, his companion in life and the mother of his children. I promise him loyalty, fidelity and the…” I faltered, looking wildly at the celebrant, then at Hux, whose eyebrows gave the unequivocal order for me to continue. But did I really have to say this, in front of all these people? Oh kriff, I really did. I swallowed and quavered on. “The possession of my body. All that is mine to give shall be his.”

His lips twitched upwards, a tacit ‘well done’.

The celebrant tucked the card away in one of her many pockets. She steepled her hands together and addressed the congregation.

“The bride and groom have given proofs of their commitment to one another. I must therefore ask of you to express your approval by the raising of right hands. Let any who disapproves raise their left hand and speak the reason for their objection.”

I was able to see a great forest of right hands waving in the air, and nobody said anything, so I presumed no left hands were in evidence.

“Good,” said the celebrant. “We may continue. General Taran Hux, I ask you whether you will undertake to dedicate yourself and your dependants to the service of the First Order, putting its aims and objects at the head of your priorities.”

“I will,” said Hux.

“Lilani Tarkin, I ask of you the same question.”

_Er, no._

The silence roared in my ears. I flicked my eyes away from Hux’s intense stare, and tried to curl my fingers out of his grasp, but I couldn’t. Could I say that I didn’t know enough about the First Order to make this promise?

What would happen to me if I refused?

Something told me I didn’t want to find out. Everywhere I looked, I was surrounded by people whose devotion to this new cause was strong, perhaps even fanatical. If I let them down…

If I let _him_ down…

He pushed a thumb right into the soft skin of my wrist until my pulse hammered against it. The furtive forcefulness of it gave me a kind of hope. I felt, rightly or wrongly, that I was safe with him, no matter how much danger lay outside us.

So I said, “I will,” whilst keeping my fingers mentally crossed. It was just words, after all.

He released the pressure on my wrist and stroked along the line of my veins instead, releasing some of the tension that had built inside me and replacing it with a soft thrill of desire for him.

The celebrant reached into another pocket, bringing out a pair of jewellery boxes, one each for me and Hux.

“You have made your vows,” she said, “and now you will exchange the symbols of your bond.”

Hux slid the ring on my finger with gentle finesse; when my turn came, I was shaking so much he had to help me with it.

“You are all witness to the union of this man and this woman,” said the celebrant. “I call upon you to support them in their life together, and to reinforce their devotion to the First Order whenever possible. We are each responsible, solely and jointly, for this great effort of restoration. We congratulate General and Lady Hux on their marriage, and wish them all good fortune.”

There was a round of applause. When it died down, the celebrant turned to us.

“I declare that you are irrevocably bound, one to another, until the day of your death.”

At this, Hux slipped a hand into the small of my back and pressed me against him, bending to bestow the ceremonial kiss that sealed the deal.

Applause washed around us again as his lips met mine. He held my face with his free hand, keeping me locked into the kiss, stretching it out beyond the cursory symbolic gesture required. Behind me, I heard Madam Hux tutting, then muttering, “Yes, I think that will do now.”

I broke away in a daze. I was Lady Hux. I was _irrevocably bound_ to him.

Much as this whole thing seemed like an elaborate pantomime, there would be no escaping into the wings for me. My legal obligations stared me in the face as I signed the register, then the secrecy agreement, then a thousand other little clauses and sub-clauses, designed to keep me firmly in the clutches of this organisation.

I turned to him, once our desk duties were performed, and mouthed ‘What now?’, shortly followed by a loud bark of ‘Fuck!’ as the air suddenly rang with gunfire. I grabbed hold of his arm and hid my face, convinced that we were the victims of some kind of coup or assassination attempt, but he laughed softly and prised me out of concealment.

“It’s a military salute,” he explained, smirking at my overreaction. “Standard procedure.” He bent to speak into my ear. “I don’t think mother was very impressed with your language just then, by the way. You might want to think about toning it down.”

_Fuck her_ , I thought angrily, but I had enough control of myself not to voice it.

“I thought we were being shot at,” I said, working hard to settle my breathing.

“Well, we weren’t,” he said, leading me off the dais and into the crowd. “You have nothing to fear here, my lady.”

_His lady_.

I walked into an endless, repetitive sea of congratulations. Many, many people spoke warmly of my grandfather and their connections with him, and I quickly realised that the destruction of Alderaan hadn’t affected their feelings. They called him ‘heroic’, ‘inspirational’ and ‘a great man’ among other glowing descriptions. By the time we reached the dining tables, I felt that I had come to a different galaxy. Everything was upside down here; the values I had been taught in my New Republican childhood and youth counted for nothing.

I sat beside my new husband, listening to strange speeches about new orders and rebuilding of empires while I tried to find some stomach for the (admittedly exquisite) food. He was solicitous and attentive in the gaps between these orations, concerned at my lack of appetite, even feeding me one or two morsels from his own hand. His attentions pierced my shell of numbness once or twice, making me see that my situation could be much worse.

Before the toasts, he leant into me and murmured, “I must admit, I just want all this to be over now, so I can have you to myself.”

I met his eye and smiled for the first time all day. Yes, when we were alone, all this could be forgotten, at least temporarily.

Our health, happiness, success, fertility and kriff knows what else was drunk to, and then some music struck up and Hux pulled me up by my elbow and led me into the empty space in the centre of all the tables.

I was in his arms before the full horror of the situation struck me.

Dancing.

In public. With everybody watching. When I was the worst dancer of all time.

At least, I’d always thought I was, but unusually I didn’t fall over or give Hux an accidental kick in the shins. In fact, I seemed to be getting through it without incident. He made it very clear what was coming next, and led me into it, leaving me plenty of time and space to work it out. I didn’t need to wonder what I should be doing – he more or less did it for me. I had never experienced this, and I had certainly never enjoyed it, as I almost came to do.

I sank gratefully into his embrace and let him take over, free to luxuriate in the feel of him, the rise and fall of his chest, the alluring scent of his skin. Our closeness allowed me to forget that we were being watched, and by so many people. Now it was just him and me and the music.

Until the music ended, and we were objects under the lens of the collective gaze once more.

“I’ve been dying to meet this lucky girl,” enthused a woman in a gravity-defying hat, her uniformed husband hovering over her shoulder. “Come here and kiss me, dear.”

I let her air-kiss me. She smelled very strongly of violet powder.

“I’ve known your groom since he barely reached my knee,” she said in a confiding undertone. “And look at him now! Towering above us. Such a handsome man – you know, if I were only thirty years younger.” She tittered girlishly. Hux made no response, knowing that the words weren’t really directed at him.

“I only met him yesterday,” I informed her, feeling that I ought to say something, but having no idea what.

“Oh, you poor creature. So dreadful, what happened to your parents. And being stuck out there in that lawless place. But now you’re with us, things will be so much better, you’ll see. I know your husband will take good care of you, won’t you, General?”

“Indeed I will,” he said tonelessly.

“From the bridge of your warship?” I said. It came out more snippily than I intended, and the woman looked shocked. I was rather relieved that I couldn’t see Hux’s face.

He laid his hand, quite gently, between my shoulder blades. I knew it was a warning and my pulse quickened.

“The Commandant and Madam Hux will be excellent proxies, I’m sure,” said the guest sternly. “I hope you don’t mean to imply otherwise.”

“I don’t mean to imply anything,” I said weakly, scanning around me for possible escape routes.

“And if fortune is kind, you’ll soon have little ones for company,” she added.

I had nothing to say to that but a nervous laugh.

“Ah…yes…actually, I really need to…powder my nose.”

I shrugged free of Hux’s hand and fled.

In the safety of the women’s restroom, I tried to bury my face between my knees and take long, deep breaths, but the bloody corset didn’t help with this endeavour. I had to content myself with a half-bent posture and trying to hold what shallow breaths I was able to take for as long as possible. I seemed to have given myself over – willingly, signing on the dotted line – to some kind of pro-Empire cult. What the fuck was I going to do now? Was it even possible to leave, if I needed to?

“I’m not sure she’s the right type.”

The voice accompanied the swinging open of the restroom door, and was strident.

“Really, why not? She’s a Tarkin after all. Rather pretty, I thought.”

“Pretty isn’t what we need. And neither is her name, necessarily. We need grit. Iron. She looked as if a breath of wind would knock her over.”

“Oh, that’s probably the corset. Don’t you remember? Dear me. I almost passed out at the altar, as I recall.”

A sniff.

“She’s spent her life in the New Republic. She should have been brought back sooner.”

“Well, that’s hardly her fault. Anyway, Taran seems to like her.”

“He’s a man, what do you expect?”

There was grudging laughter, then the clicking of stall doors being locked.

I made good my escape, splashing my face with water before heading back out in search of somewhere quiet and secluded.

I found it in a corridor behind the function room. I sat beneath an immense potted plant and looked out at the endless lightning and the purple-grey cloudy backdrop. I had hoped to find a place where I belonged, but the odds weren’t looking too good that this was it.

Once more, I was the square peg in the round hole. Perhaps that was my destiny, and I should stop fighting it.

The rain swept down in diagonal sheets. If we weren’t clinging to the side of a mountain, we’d all be flooded out. I imagined the water seeping into the compound and washing us all away until nothing was left but a flotsam of tiaras and military ribbons on the surface. The image was soothing and I let it calm me, along with the balsamic scent of the plant and the much-needed quiet.

“Here you are at last.”

Hux stood a few feet away, brow furrowed, the fringes of his gold epaulettes swinging as if he’d been in a hurry.

“Oh…I just needed some quiet…”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” He came closer, reproachful now, and crouched beside me. “I didn’t expect to be playing hide and seek on my wedding day.”

He ran his knuckles down my arm. I sighed and tilted my head towards him, rubbing against his sleeve. Much as everything else here made me want to run away, his presence drew me towards him.

He put his hand on my shoulder, his thumb rubbing my neck.

“Come on,” he said. “You can’t stay here all night.”

“There are just so many people, and they’ve all been watching me all day, and I’m not used to it, and it’s a bit overwhelming.” I looked up at him, willing him to understand. “Do we have to stay?”

He broke into a smile and pressed his lips to my forehead for a long moment.

“I’m usually a stickler for doing things the right way,” he said. “And my parents will expect us to be on display all night. But this is my wedding day, and I think I can be excused from standing on ceremony just this once.”

I grabbed his hand and clung to it.

“So can we leave?”

“Mm, so eager. I like that.” He dropped a kiss on to my bare shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about getting you into my bed all day. All right, you’ve talked me into it. But I must warn you, we can’t just slip away unnoticed.”

“Oh, can’t we?” His closeness had gone straight to my head, like a strong perfume. I was a little dizzy and desperate for another kiss.

“No. And people will talk about our early departure.”

“I don’t care. I don’t know any of them.”

“Yet,” he cautioned. “You’ll see quite a few of them at dinners and social events, I should think. But if you don’t mind them gossiping about us, I’m sure I don’t.”

“They gossip about me anyway,” I said.

He rose to his feet, pulling me up with him.

“Come on, then.”

We re-entered the function room, cutting our way through the dancers and chatterers, Hux’s intent expression and swift pace discouraging those who might have tried to stop us for a bout of inane smalltalk.

Passing the band, Hux stopped to whisper something into the conductor’s ear, at which the conductor halted the music and waited for us to step once more on to the raised platform in front of the assembled company.

For a panicked moment, I thought I was going to have to make some kind of speech. Everyone stopped dancing or talking and looked at us, confused or mildly consternated. The older Huxes rushed forwards, clearly feeling that something was badly wrong, but before they could reach us, the band struck up and I was lifted, with a squeal of surprise, into my husband’s arms.

“It’s far too soon!” exclaimed Madam Hux as we swept past her, but Hux made no reply, walking onwards through the hesitant applause while I turned my face and hid it in his shoulder.

The walk of shame seemed to go on and on, but finally we were out of the function room and back in the relative sanity of the corridors.

“There, that’s done,” said Hux, picking up pace as if he was afraid of being followed, which he probably was. “And you’re all mine for the rest of the day. And night.”

 


	6. Into The Sensual World

Hux carried me into a suite of immaculate rooms low down in the compound. I tried to get a good look at them en route to the bedroom, but by this time Hux was practically running, so my impressions were blurred.

The bedroom was sizeable and surprisingly bright compared to other rooms in this place, thanks to large sliding windows that looked out on to a small courtyard. The room I’d slept in the night before had been fully subterranean, without natural light, and I’d presumed most of the inner quarters were the same.

Lightning flashed over us as he set me on the ground, holding me at arm’s length to look me up and down. He was paler than ever, and I saw his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. I felt like a small animal trapped within range of a predator, although the small animal probably wouldn’t have been experiencing sexual arousal in the way I was.

My mind wound back to the vow I had made. _The possession of my body_. It was about to happen.

He reached out a hand and ran it over the curve of my hip, tracing its line before pulling me into him for a kiss. More than a kiss. His palm travelled lower, finding the swell of my bottom and resting there as his thorough ravishment of my mouth continued, his other hand on the back of my head, impeding any escape - not that I would have tried.

I put my hands flat on his shoulders, tiptoeing up so he didn’t have to bend his neck too far. He made a throaty sound and tipped me backwards on to the bed. I fell in a sprawl of tulle while he bore down on me, his knees pressed to mine, his upper torso shadowing me, still connected by our lips. His weight upon me drove even more breath from my corseted chest, and I writhed underneath him, signalling the need to inhale.

He took pity on me, rolling on to his side and lying with his forehead touching mine, running his hands all over the swells and inlets of my tightly-constrained figure.

“It’s a lovely dress,” he said, “but I think it’ll be even lovelier on my floor. How do I get it off?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I think…” I turned to lie on my front. There were concealed fasteners all the way up the back from my waist, but not so well-concealed that he didn’t find them in an instant and begin the process of undoing me. His fingertips drifted down as he unfastened, feathering over my back and twisting into the corset laces he discovered in his investigations.

I gritted my teeth and tried not to fret at the thought of being seen naked by him, but once I was peeled open to the waist and he tugged at my skirt to pull the dress off, I couldn’t stop myself grabbing at my bodice in a last-ditch attempt to remain clothed.

“What’s this?” he scolded, prising my fingers away. “You know you can’t hide from me now.”

I bit down on my lip as he whisked the dress off me, leaving me with only the corset, stockings and transparent knickers to shield me.

“Ohhh,” he breathed, dropping the dress in a puff of lace on to the floor and fixing his full attention on what it had revealed. “Sweet Sith. Stand up, let me look at you properly.”

Reluctantly, I scooted backwards off the bed while he went to hang the dress up, apparently unable to tolerate a speck of disorder in this unnaturally orderly room. When he turned back to me, I was scarlet-hot in the cheeks and quivering all over.

“You shouldn’t be nervous,” he said, drinking me in from about a yard’s distance. “You look absolutely…” He let out a sigh of appreciation, then went to sit on the edge of the bed. “Come here,” he said, patting his thigh.

I obeyed, finding myself grabbed and placed on his lap for more kissing, coupled with some adventurous exploring from his hands. Having kissed away the worst of my nerves until I melted happily against him, he moved his lips to my ear.

“Is this your first time?” he asked.

I shook my head, sensing a little glimmer of disappointment from him.

“Once, at the Institute,” I whispered.

“Just once?”

“He…didn’t really want me,” I said, the humiliation of it crawling back into me, all over my scalp.

“What? Was he mad?” He put his lips to the tender skin of my neck and sucked at it, moaning under his breath.

“It was a bet,” I said, tears springing into my eyes at the memory. “Because of who I am. Because of my grandfather. Nobody else would touch me…”

Hux stopped kissing my neck and stared at me, wide-eyed.

“Tell me his name,” he demanded in a low hiss.

“Oh, I don’t want to talk about him…” I stammered, but then the steel in Hux’s eye made me relent. “Norvas Thring.”

“And where is he from?”

“Why do you…” He raised his eyebrows, brooking no argument. “Hosnian Prime.”

A sharp nod and a grim smile told me that this had been filed away in his memory for later consideration. I wondered if I ought to feel sorry for Thring, but he was soon flung far from my thoughts.

“On to the bed with you,” Hux said, tipping me back on to the mattress where I sprawled indecently in my boudoir attire.

He stood and gazed down at me.

“Don’t move,” he said. “I think I need a picture.” He retrieved his datapad from the bedside table and used it to capture my image. I hated having my photograph taken, and was strongly tempted to move to the side or rearrange my limbs into a more concealing formation, but I knew he wouldn’t allow it. This knowledge was both intimidating and exciting; it kept me pinned in place in the full beam of his attention. I had sometimes fantasised about a lover who would take charge in this way, but hadn’t really thought they existed. Perhaps they didn’t, in the Republic. But the First Order was something else.

The datapad clicked and he smirked approvingly at the image.

“Something to take back on board with me,” he said, taking several more for good measure. He put the datapad aside and began to unbutton his jacket, never removing his eyes from me until it was off and hung on the wardrobe door, with a jingle of medallions. Underneath he wore a light white shirt, slightly oversized and billowy at the sleeve. It was sheer enough to see that he was bare-chested underneath it. I could even make out the odd freckle or two through the fine lawn cotton.

He pulled off his boots and came to straddle me, his knees bumping against mine. He looked down from this vantage point for a moment or two before leaning down to bury his face in my cantina wench cleavage.

“I have a dilemma,” he murmured, kissing his way up along my neck and jaw. “I can’t decide whether to keep that corset on or take it off. I’d be quite happy for you to wear it forever.”

I put my fingers in his hair, something I’d been wanting to do since I first saw it, and ruffled it up. Sticky gel came off on me, but I was rewarded by the rebellion of an orange lock, falling out of its sleek perfection and over his forehead.

His lips hovered over mine, awaiting my reply.

“You’d have to organise an extra lung transplant for me then,” I said. “Because I can barely breathe in this thing.”

“Ah.” He kissed me, hands on my shoulders, holding me down, testing my words by keeping his mouth fixed to mine until I was desperate for air. “So I see. All right. Over you go.”

Panting, I let him roll me on to my stomach so he could deal with the lovers’ knot. He must have been practising, because it was undone in seconds. I felt my chest expand as the laces were loosened and I sucked in a greedy lungful of air.

“Is that better?” he asked, nipping at the back of my neck.

“Much, much better, ohhh kriff, so much better.”

“We won’t throw it away though, eh?” he said, tugging it from underneath me and putting it aside. “I’m sure it has a bit more life it yet.”

He kissed a line along my spine, taking in every bump and curve, until he arrived at the waistband of my knickers.

“As for these,” he said, sliding his fingers over my beaded rear cheeks. “I’m not sure why you bothered. I thought for a moment you weren’t wearing any.”

“I didn’t choose them,” I said.

“No? Well, they were a good choice anyway.” He rubbed his palm, teasingly gentle, over their swell. I clamped my thighs together, feeling the dampness at their apex his touch had provoked. “You really are very much what I might have ordered for myself,” he sighed, stroking away, running a thumb along the fragile lower hem. My scalp fizzled and knew I was wetter than ever.

“Do you…often…order women?” I whimpered, struggling to get the words to stay together on their way to my mouth. If his hand went any lower, he would know immediately how hot and bothered he was getting me.

“No,” he said, and I heard the smile in his voice. “But I sometimes imagine what I’d have if I could.” He lifted the lower hem of my knickers and dropped a kiss on the exposed skin. “This, for a start.”

“So…you’re not…disappointed, then? Ohhh.”

He slid his hand between my tight-clamped thighs, prising them apart, and let his fingers drift over their dewy upper regions. Now I was busted.

“Sith, no,” he said warmly. “And neither, I think, are you.” He patted my soaked gusset, as if to illustrate his point. My cheeks burned. “I want to see your face.”

Damn, that was exactly what I didn’t want, but I couldn’t fight him as he manhandled me on to my back.

He might have wanted to see my face, but it was my breasts that seemed to get the lion’s share of his attention now. He made a dive for them, cupping and kneading, licking and tweaking at my nipples. They were stiff already, but they seemed to expand and grow even more under his hands and mouth until they throbbed, sending flashing signals down between my legs. I was so wet now that I began to worry about leaving patches on the bedclothes, and over Hux’s pristine white trousers. I rubbed a leg against his, pushing up in an effort to find what was inside them.

He released my breasts and bore down on my mouth again, plunging his tongue inside just as I felt the hard lump of his erection bruise my mound.

Oh Sith, this was divine, this felt amazing, I had never been so mad for a man – so mad for anything – in my life before. Why hadn’t I known about it? I had been missing out for all this time.

But perhaps only Hux could do this to me.

When I thought back to my experience with Thring, I could honestly say that it had left me with no particular inclination to try it again. It had been an awkward, mute encounter in the semi-dark, ending disappointingly for me, if not for him. It had made me wonder why women bothered, when they possessed fingers and an erotic imagination. A man – that man – seemed to bring very little to the party.

Hux was not that man, though, and I was eager to get him close and deep inside in every way possible. It was new and wonderful, like diving into a coral reef when you expected a dank grey sea.

Still kissing, Hux let his fingers wander down over my stomach, tickling as they went, until they met the pathetic resistance of my knickers. He eased them through that barrier, sliding them down inside the wispy material. I already felt a kind of exhilarated embarrassment from being nearly naked while he was still practically fully-clothed, but when he reached his destination and cupped my mound in a possessive hand, it reached its zenith. I wriggled against him, trying to evade his hold on me, but there was no chance of that. He strengthened it accordingly, grinding his hand into my core, gathering some of my copious juices.

Suddenly I felt the danger of this extreme pleasure; it could become an addiction, something I would miss too much when he wasn’t with me. It could make me fall for him, in a way I had unconsciously wanted to avoid.

In a flutter of panic, I pushed my palms against his chest, trying to lift him off me and dislodge his fingers from between my soaking lips. It was an impossible task – he was really much stronger than he looked – but eventually he noticed my efforts and drew back, half-frowning with confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…I…” I couldn’t tell him; he would never understand. “I just…the last time wasn’t very good for me.”

Hux’s eyes darkened.

“Did he hurt you?”

I inhaled sharply, shaking my head.

“No, not that… I just didn’t enjoy it. Perhaps I’m not cut out for it.”

For a moment, a shadow of anger crossed Hux’s face and I tensed, waiting for something cruel to be said or done to me. But it passed, and when he spoke his tone was patient.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, brushing my collapsing hairdo out of my eyes. “I’ve never met anyone _more_ cut out for it. And you’re clearly enjoying it just as much as I am. So I don’t quite understand.”

Neither did I, really. But it felt important that I should take a step back from him, for the sake of my sanity.

“I do…like what you do,” I whispered. “A lot…but…”

“But you’re expecting the act itself to be painful or unpleasant?” he finished. “Darling, it won’t be. I promise you that. I fully expected that I might have to take it gently with you at first, and I will, but you mustn’t fight me. You must learn to trust me. Will you try it?”

Oh lord, my first attempt to defend myself, and he was crashing right through the shield. I couldn’t hold him back. If I hadn’t wanted him so badly, it would have been easier…or not… My wits were tied up in knots. If he would only be brutal or unsympathetic, it would be a breeze, but I had lost this round and now it would be even harder to recover my resolve.

Bested, I lowered my eyes and nodded.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered. “Now lie down for me and put your arms above your head…like that…yes.”

He kissed my wrists, where I had placed them beyond use.

“Keep them there,” he said, cupping my face in a hand and stroking me until the agitation seeped out of my body. “Imagine them weighted down and unable to move…sinking into the mattress…so you’re all stretched out and open for me…”

He lay on his side beside my supine, defenceless form, my hands raised in a gesture of surrender, and kept his eyes locked with mine while his hand returned to its station between my legs. When his fingers found the swollen bud of my clit, I felt that twitch of panic again and tried to turn my face away. He blocked my escape with his free hand, using it to keep my gaze trained on his face.

“No,” he admonished quietly. “I need to see you.”

I hadn’t even thought of using my hands, which was a testament to how far under his spell I’d fallen. I breathed through the panic and let his circling, swirling fingers chase it away.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Mm,” I said, my toes curling as pleasure eddied through me. “Ahhh.”

This seemed to be the right answer. He tried all kinds of techniques, sometimes firmer, sometimes more ticklish, sometimes faster, sometimes languid, until I was wound up tight, clenching all the surrounding muscles. I wanted to look away from him very badly, but I couldn’t. I could only try to regulate my facial expressions, but even that was becoming impossible as he drove me upwards into new heights of arousal.

“Not cut out for it,” he teased, running his thumb over my clit. It felt so heavy now, twice the usual size, and so sensitive my thighs were trembling madly. “I think not.” His eyes gleamed, pupils huge and black, thinly rimmed with blue-green. “You _need_ it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped, no longer in control of my facial muscles, or anything else.

He smiled and slipped one long finger inside me, keeping his thumb busy on my slippery bud. I stared at him, a silent plea for mercy, as he probed and explored, adding another finger, then another, maintaining his relentless pressure on my clit all the while.

I was wound so high now, right up at the peak. I couldn’t hold back much longer, and he could tell. The way he held my gaze was just as penetrating as the play of his fingers inside me - perhaps more so - and he didn’t break it for an instant, even when I began to jerk and pant and make helpless, mortifying little mewing sounds as my orgasm overtook me.

“There now, you see,” he said, with more than a hint of smugness as I fell apart all over his fingers. “You can’t fight it. You are mine.”

He bent his mouth to mine, kissing me through the remains of my climax. My spinning head didn’t know much, but it knew this: everything was up with me.

I was his.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my. This could be a very long wedding night. Please voice your objections below the line ;).


	7. This Is Where I Want To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the delicious feedback. It sustains my body and soul. And now - the wedding night continues...

He knew - I could see it in his eyes when he broke the kiss and looked down on me. He knew he had used my body to bend me to his will. He knew he could do that whenever he wanted, and he was pretty damn pleased about it.

“You can move your hands now,” he said, smirking at how I still maintained the decreed posture, long after it was necessary.

It was difficult to raise them, almost as if they really were weighted down in the way he had suggested. Had he hypnotised me? I moved them slowly to the front of his shirt and tugged at it in mute exhortation.

“Yes, I am rather overdressed, aren’t I?” he said, sitting up to pull it over his head.

He gathered me up again and I revelled in the new sensation of my warm skin touching his, my softness up against his hardness.

“I take it that was good?” he said lightly, stroking my hair, his breath feathering over my skin as he spoke.

“Mm hmm,” I said. He didn’t really need me to tell him.

“And new?” he asked. “I mean, no other man has made you…?”

“No. You’re the first in that sense.”

He sighed happily and kissed my mouth.

“And the last,” he said.

Sith, what a thought. But he was right. Unless we divorced – and something told me this would be an extremely difficult course to pursue – there would never be another man for me.

As we kissed, rocking together at the hips, it became clear that he was almost bursting through his white dress trousers. Surely he couldn’t hold on to his self-control for much longer? His hand slipped down the back of my knickers, squeezing my bottom with relish.

“You need to get these off,” he muttered, reaching down to release himself from his own confines. “If I don’t have you soon, I’ll lose my mind.”

He rolled off me, dealing with his own garments while I unsnapped and rolled down my stockings, then shimmied out of the knickers. Naked together at last, we rolled around kissing for a while, Hux letting me familiarise myself with the length and width of what I would soon be more intimately acquainted with by pressing it against my thighs.

I wondered if he would let me touch it and I snaked an exploratory hand between our grinding hips, but he grabbed my wrist before I could make my move.

“If you touch me, I’ll lose control,” he warned. “I’m trying to pace myself.”

He got me on to my back again and crouched over me, rubbing his hard length between my thighs. He placed it between my lower lips, slicking it over with my juices before lining himself up, ready for the push forward.

I had only caught glimpses of it during the general hurly-burly, but it was enough to intimidate me. Would it even fit? A wave of fear made me want to clamp tight, but it was too late now – I couldn’t shut him out. He still held my wrist, pinning it down beside my head. My other hand was on his shoulder, my fingers tensing into claws as blunt pressure bore down on my opening. Fingers were one thing, but this felt so much thicker.

He picked up on my shallow breathing and growing rigidity and paused to kiss me and stroke my cheek.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”

“But are you sure?” I blurted, trying to wriggle backwards up the bed, away from the threat of penetration. To no avail, obviously. He wouldn’t be having that.

“If you’ve done it before, you’ll be fine,” he assured me. “I promise. It’ll be a stretch, but you’re designed for that. If a full-term baby can get through, I’m pretty sure I can.”

Oh kriff, don’t talk about babies! I thought fleetingly about the birth control pill I’d taken earlier, mentally reminding myself to get hold of my old backpack with the others hidden inside as soon as I could.

He put the fingers of his free hand between my thighs, coating them thoroughly in my still-copious juices before wrapping them around his shaft and beginning the slow, gentle process of guiding it into me.

“Easy now,” he whispered. “Lie still for me.”

I tried to banish the memory of Norvas Thring – one quick stab then lots of pain and blood. That was what was causing the panic and fear, after all. Why should I let that jerk ruin my wedding night? I resolved then and there that I would treat this as my first time, and go into it without any more negative associations – only hope and the expectation of pleasure.

I loosened my grip on Hux’s shoulder and let my muscles unravel.

“I’m ready,” I said. “It’s OK.”

“Brave girl,” he said, kissing my forehead before making the first push.

For a dread second, I thought my pelvic floor would repel him, then I felt it yield, so much more easily than I had expected, and stretch to accept his first inch, then his second.

The sensation was strange, but certainly not painful, as long as I didn’t try to resist the advance.

“How’s that?” he whispered, pausing about halfway.

“It’s…fine,” I said.

He snorted. “ _Fine_ , is it? I’ve had higher praise.”

“No, I mean it’s good, really. Not hurting or anything.”

“Excellent,” he said, moving slowly on. He grimaced, as if in pain. “ _Lord_ , but you’re tight.”

“Sorry,” I said, and he laughed, then kissed me.

“No, that’s not a criticism,” he said, stroking my cheek. “Far from it.” He shut his eyes and let out a long sigh. “You feel…heavenly.”

While I couldn’t say I felt exactly heavenly at this point, I was beginning to accept the invasion into my body and even relish the fact that we were now inescapably joined. Was this the moment of consummation? Or did that come later, so to speak?

He was all the way in now, and he rocked his hips against mine to make sure I was quite aware of this fact. I wrapped my legs around his and held on to his shoulders, watching his freckled chest tense and relax with each minute movement.

“All right now?” he said softly, between kisses to various parts of my face and neck.

I nodded, wriggling underneath him to emphasise how much more than all right I was.

“I hope so,” he said. “Because you’re going to have to get used to this, kitten. _Very_ used to it. In fact, I might have a lock put on your wardrobe when I’m home. You won’t be needing any clothes. Except maybe that corset…”

His words made me squirm in all my sensitive spots, sending warmth and pleasure down the channel he currently occupied. I began to see how this could really be as enjoyable as people said.

I was ready for the situation to develop, and I signalled this by rotating my pelvis, grinding myself against him.

He knew exactly what I was doing, and stopped me with a firm hand on my hip.

“Oh, you want it now?” he said, smirking. “I’m very pleased to see it, but I’m not going to rush. You’ll have to be patient.”

He made the most infinitesimal move backwards, then reseated himself. I let out a little whimper of frustration. Despite my recent climax, I was more than ready to begin the work of building another one from these promising foundations.

I clamped my knees against his thighs and lifted my bottom off the mattress. Somehow, anyhow, I was going to make him take me. I raised my mouth for a fevered kiss, which he accepted with tongue-probing enthusiasm, but when it was over, he still hadn’t moved. I tried fastening my mouth to one of his strawberry-pink nipples, but he laughed and got my wrists in a tight grip behind my head, forcing me flat once more.

“You can’t win this,” he informed me.

“I didn’t think it was a competition,” I gasped, still trying hard to jerk my lower half against him.

“Oh, it can be,” he said. “It can even be a fight. But let’s not run before we can walk.”

“I just want you to…” I moaned.

“What?”

“You know what!”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know… _have_ me. Take me. Whatever.”

“Possess your body?” he said with a feral smile.

“Yes,” I growled, stamping my heels into the mattress.

“Sith,” he hissed. “I really wanted to take this slowly but I’m far too turned on now. All right, you asked for it. Apologies in advance if I don’t last long.”

He let go of my wrists, got a firm hold of my buttocks, spreading them wide, and began to thrust in earnest. Slow, powerful strokes that made me grunt with each homeward drive, but didn’t cause pain. Instead they spread the tingle that had been circulating around my lower belly outwards, making me tremble with the growing force of it.

I couldn’t believe how amazing it felt. What I had thought of as a brutal and joyless act was now something entirely other. And it wasn’t just the physical mechanics of it, although Hux’s technique was stimulating enough. It was the primitive instinct he awoke in me; the feeling of being overpowered by him and his desire for me – and by my own desire for him.

I felt so many things at once that I couldn’t name them all. I could only surrender.

He stopped suddenly, clearly struggling with his self-control, and put a thumb on my clit.

The feeling was almost too intense and I clawed at his shoulders, gasping.

He made a throaty sound of satisfaction and began to tease my bud, holding himself still, fully sheathed inside me. It was a bit like being tickled, but internally rather than on skin, and I began to writhe underneath him. I clamped my muscles around his length, silently begging him to continue.

He waited until I was a helpless, twitching mess, halfway to losing control, before recommencing his campaign. The thrusts were harder now, and faster, and the flame inside me quickly rose, leaping up until I knew I had seconds left. I was moaning ceaselessly, incoherent and beside myself.

He shifted so that the angle of penetration was different, deeper, more frictive and found a spot I hadn’t known I had. My eyes flew wide and I clung to him. How did he _know_?

Now he could let go of my clit without making any difference to the gathering storm of my orgasm. It was coming, really close, almost there… My voice cracked and he upped his pace to a ferocious level.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he muttered to himself, and then I was away and over the edge, no longer capable of holding anything back. His voice joined with mine, a kind of orgasmic chorus and he thrust so hard my head hit the headboard before hissing out every swear word I’d ever heard, plus a few I hadn’t, and collapsing on top of me.

We lay cradling each other and catching breath for long, sweet moments. Overcome with tenderness for him, I kissed his eyelids, causing him to open them and look at me with drowsy solicitude.

“Mmm,” he said, nuzzling into me. “I think you can consider your body duly possessed.”

“Definitely,” I yawned. “The consolations of intimacy weren’t bad either. Very…consoling.”

He stroked beads of perspiration from my hairline.

“Let’s hope all our vows are as easy to keep,” he said. “I could console you with intimacy as often as you like.” He heaved a contented sigh. “At this moment, I feel like the luckiest man in the galaxy.”

Did I feel the same? The potent cocktail of post-coital hormones made me think so, but would I still believe it when he was gone?

“It’s going to be hard for you to _guide_ me from your distant warship,” I said. “And isn’t that a bit sexist anyway? Why do you get to do the guiding?”

“It isn’t in the least sexist,” said Hux. “The vows are tailored to each couple. Whoever is most senior in the Order gets to be the guide.”

“Really? So if I was the general and you were the blow-in…?”

“It would be you guiding me, yes.”

“I see. What about people who aren’t in the military? Or who are equal in rank?”

“People of equal rank guide each other. And the hierarchy of the Order isn’t confined to the military. Every member of the population has their place in the scheme of things. They know what they are and what to aspire to.”

“That’s very rigidly structured,” I said.

“All societies are,” said Hux. “Even the ones that pretend not to be. Structure is necessary to preserve order, with a small and a large ‘o’. The First Order is just honest about it, that’s all.”

“Right,” I said. I had dozens of questions about the First Order, but I didn’t want to get into it now. Perhaps I didn’t really want to know the answers, not while I was glowing from what had passed between us. I wanted to think well of him, even if it was just for these few days before he had to leave.

I decided to change the subject. “Are we in a lot of trouble? For leaving early?”

His full lips quirked up and he propped himself on an elbow, gazing down at me.

“With my mother, you mean?” he said.

“Both your parents.”

He prodded me with a fingertip. “ _You_ are,” he said.

“Why me? That’s not fair! I didn’t leave alone.”

“No, but my mother will assume you enticed me into it. Which, to be strictly accurate, you did. I doubt my father will care either way. To him, I’m a General of the First Order, answerable for my own actions. To mother, though, I will always be her little cub.”

Cub was right, I thought. The woman was a she-wolf. Probably best not to say this out loud though.

“Well, you’re the shield and defender,” I reminded him. “Here’s your chance to shield and defend me.”

“I will,” he promised. “She won’t say anything in front of me anyway.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said. “You won’t always be here.”

He knitted his brow at me. “You’ll need to stand up for yourself then, won’t you?” he said, somewhat tartly.

I turned away from him, my eyes suddenly teary.

Yes, I knew all about standing up for myself. I’d had to do it since my parents were killed, all the way through a neglected and hostile childhood, battling my way through further education in the face of people who wanted to deny me every opportunity, even any future. I was just about sick of standing up for myself. I wanted to live somewhere I didn’t have to for once.

I didn’t want to talk to him about it, though. I had the feeling his tolerance for self-pity wasn’t high.

I pressed my wet eyes into the pillow, but couldn’t stop my shoulders shaking, just the once.

“Lilani,” he said, covering one of the shaken shoulders with a hand, pulling me round to face him again. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” I said, blinking madly.

“Yes there is,” he contradicted. “Don’t ever lie to me. I’m your husband, Lilani, you owe me your honesty.”

Well, he wasn’t getting it. Not this time.

“Just been a hell of a day,” I said, forcing my jaw to stop wobbling. “I’m a long way from everything I’ve ever known…and…”

“Hush, I know, it’s all right,” he said, stroking my arm. “It’s a cultureshock, I’m sure. But you’re not alone, darling. You have me, and my family and all of the First Order. We all want to take good care of you, you know.”

“Do you?” I said, finding the concept both comforting and vaguely alarming, as if they were all circles in a web, winding me up in their sticky gossamer.

“Of course. Everybody here is your friend. More than your friend, in my case.”

“I haven’t had many friends in my life,” I said, teetering on the edge of the dreaded self-pity again.

If he found it distasteful, he didn’t show it.

“You’ve lived in the wrong place, that’s all,” he said. “And now you’re in the right place, with the right people.”

“The right man,” I suggested, putting a shaky hand on him. He took it and kissed my knuckles.

“Absolutely the right man,” he said. He held my fingers against his cheek; it was smooth with just a velvety hint of approaching stubble. “I’m in no doubt about that, and I hope you aren’t either.”

“No,” I admitted, only too happy to be bundled into his arms again.

“Good,” he said, patting my bare bottom lightly before putting his lips to my ear for a confidential whisper. “And I’m glad you weren’t a virgin after all.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. Because I’d have to wait before having you again, and I really don’t think I can.”

He rolled me on to my back and kissed me hard. _All will be well_ , I thought, before my thoughts were smashed into smithereens of lust again. _All will be well with us._

 

 

 


	8. This Is What I Need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to capture the mood of Ravel's Introduction and Allegro at the start of this, probably unsuccessfully, but it was certainly inspiring.

Something was strange and new when I woke up.

In fact, many things were strange and new – not least having a man beside me in the bed – so it took me a moment or two to identify exactly which strange and new thing was making me feel that the room had changed in a fundamental way.

I sat up, rubbed sleep from sticky eyes, and looked around me.

Sunlight!

That’s what it was. A shaft of it had pierced its way through the curtains and made a golden patch on the bedclothes. It hadn’t quite reached my sleeping husband’s face, but part of his arm and all of his hand was lit up in a way I hadn’t seen before.

Surely this was a rare event on this planet, and my instincts drew me towards it. I slipped out of bed, taking care not to disturb Hux’s slumbers – he had earned them – and found a light silk robe in the wardrobe.

Having donned it, I looked back at the general in repose, drinking in his peaceful face with its tumble of coppery hair. I wondered where he was in his dreams, and if I figured in them.

Heading towards the sliding window, I sucked in a breath of discomfort. I was stiff as a board; it felt as if every muscle in my body had been stretched beyond capacity. It reminded me of the day after the Zyron charity road race, except on that day I hadn’t had the additional sensation of having been hoofed in the crotch by a bantha.

He had broken me. I grabbed hold of the window handle with a little gasp, steadying myself and letting the sharp pain in my left thigh recede before edging the glass pane sideways.

A breath of wind shushed through the curtains. I stepped out on to stone that was patched with damp, but warm beneath my bare feet. The sky was a pure blue, dotted with puffs of cloud, and both the suns were out – one fiery and close, the other a paler version far back in the firmament.

The courtyard was small and bordered on three sides by the walls of the building. A lower wall on the far side allowed the light to pour in over the top. Presumably it prevented us falling off down the mountainside too.

In the centre of the courtyard was a small water feature – not really substantial enough to be called a fountain – surrounded by a circular walled rosebed.

I leant on the low wall, breathing in the subtle scent of the pink, white and yellow blooms and listening to the musical trickle of the fountain. The flower petals were still beaded with dew or old rain, weighed down a little, but the mixture of delicate and earthy scents was beguiling; there was still a hint of stormy heat among the freshness.

My legs ached too much to stand for long, so I perched on the wall and shut my eyes, letting all my other senses rush into the embrace of this perfect morning. Behind my eyelids, the night replayed itself; erotic visions of the many times we had joined together. How many? I wasn’t even sure. He had spent more time inside me than out, I thought hazily, clenching my pelvic floor and wincing. I remembered his head on the pillow while I sat astride him; that position had given me the best view of his face, and the quickest orgasm, but then I had preferred the times we lay woven together, on our sides, kissing through the whole thing.

No two times had been the same. Some had been gentler, some had been rougher, some had provoked emotion, others were more about the spark of lust between us.

We hadn’t had enough of each other until our bodies cried out for mercy, giving up on us with cramps and spasms and sheer exhaustion.

It was incredible to think that a marriage founded in such utilitarian circumstances could have been consummated with such passion. I felt weightless, as if the little zephyrs chasing around the fountain might lift me off the wall and into the sky.

I had found some happiness in my life at last.

_It’s just sex_. That was what Fayell would say – often did say, after another escapade in some late night cantina with whichever man had caught her eye. _It’s very easy to get the most handsome man in the room to go home with you once. Very difficult to get him to go home with you twice._

She would approve of my late introduction to the world of mind-blowing sex, but she’d advise caution too. _It’s easy to think you’re in love with a man who’s just given you the orgasm of your life._

“Good morning, Fay,” I whispered, wondering where she was, and hoping it was in bed with a hot man who would treat her like a goddess.

Hands landed lightly on my shoulders, causing my eyes to fly open, finding myself shadowed by somebody taller.

“Who’s Fay?” he asked, bending to kiss the side of my neck. I leant into him, unable to resist the lure of being close again.

“A friend,” I said, holding his hands as he clasped them around my waist. “From the orphanage.”

He kissed my lips, three times, a little longer each time, then moved his mouth closer to my ear.

“I woke up and you were gone,” he said. “For a moment, I thought it was all a dream.”

“A dream that leaves an ache,” I said, feeling the stiffness in my abdomen as I flexed to fit myself against him.

“Yes. That was what convinced me it was real,” he said. “Then I thought perhaps you’d run away from me.”

“Running isn’t really an option today,” I told him with a wince, inhaling his male, post-coital, pre-shower scent. It beat the flimsy roses.

“Running isn’t an option ever,” he said severely, “if it’s away from me.”

I rubbed my face into his heavy cotton gown. “I don’t want to run away from you,” I said.

“Good, because you can’t,” he said. “Wherever you went, I’d find you.”

He said it lightly, lovingly, but there was something in his words that sent a mild shiver along the length of my spine. It was easy to forget, in the throes of passion, that this man was a fighter as well as a lover. He had achieved the highest possible military rank extremely quickly, and people didn’t usually manage that by being unfailingly sweet and kind.

A gust of breeze tangled my hair, stronger than its playful predecessors. The little puffy clouds were moving faster, and they were growing in number. Hux wrapped his arms more tightly around me.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he said. “Come inside.”

He lifted me into his arms and we kissed, laughing. Only then, from my higher vantage point, did I notice that the courtyard was overlooked on two sides by long galleries high up in the duracrete walls. From one of them, the sour face of Madam Hux looked down, withdrawing sharply when she knew she’d been observed.

Had I been imagining the look of distaste on her face? Was our happiness some kind of affront to her?

I dismissed her from my thoughts, deciding to focus solely on the new-found pleasures of my married life. Hux carried me into the giant marble bathroom, setting me down on the shining tiles and showing me how to operate the shower.

“What’s your preferred temperature?” he asked me, keying it in when I replied. “A little warm for my tastes,” he said. “Do you mind a degree or two lower?”

I didn’t. He yanked at the cord of my robe and let it fall open, coming closer to push it down over my shoulders. He pulled my naked body against his robed one and kissed me long and probingly, his hands all over my curves.

“How are you this morning?” he murmured, smirking slightly, as if he could supply my answer himself.

“Sore,” I said ruefully. “But it was worth it.”

“Yes, it was,” he agreed, running a thumb along my lips until I parted them and kissed it reflexively. He made me repeat the gesture with more of his fingers, pushing one in my mouth for me to suck on. “I should probably give you some time to recover.”

I raised sad eyes to his. I didn’t _want_ time to recover. But then again, I definitely needed it.

“Oh, poor kitten,” he crooned, chuckling slightly. He pushed another finger into my mouth, moving them slowly in and out. “You need the attention, don’t you?”

I licked along the length of his digits, pushing my tongue into the little creases of his knuckles.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “There are other things we can do. Come on, let’s get clean first.”

He withdrew his fingers, shucked off his robe and steered me under the warm, steamy jets of the shower.

He spent a lot of time washing me, dealing with my hair first, then working a rich lather all over every square inch of my body. I wasn’t entirely surprised to find that he spent a disproportionate amount of time on certain areas at the expense of others. By the time he finished his painstaking attentions, my breasts, bottom and between my legs must have been polished to a high gleam.

They weren’t just clean; they were showing visible signs of excitement, especially my nipples, which were hard and tight, and throbbed when they were squashed into his chest for another dripping kiss.

I wasn’t alone in my arousal, though. He was hard against my hip again. He grabbed hold of one of my rear cheeks, digging his fingers deep into the furrow, as if he wanted to clean that dark and private area all over again. I felt as if I should resist him – that this was one place that should be barred to him – but his grip was firm and tight and something about it thrilled me more than I could articulate. The sense of being possessed was intense and primal, making my heart pound and my sex catch light.

He caught my earlobe between his teeth, then pushed his tongue around the base of my ear. I felt the heat of his breath, then he spoke low and urgently.

“Get on your knees,” he said.

I dropped at the same time as he pushed me down by my shoulders. I found myself looking his erection in the eye. It was a little red around the tip; the result of its vigorous night.

I knew what he wanted, of course, but I waited for him to give the order.

“Clean it,” he said. “With your mouth.”

Streams of water ran down my face and dripped from my chin as I opened my lips to wrap them around him. My mouth was crammed full before he was halfway in, and I used my hands to hold the base of his shaft, amazed at how rigid he was. I wondered how it must feel for him, and regretted the impossibility of ever knowing.

I had a strong sense that, whatever that feeling was, it was good, because he let out a low moan and grabbed a handful of my hair, preventing me from drawing back.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Suck it for me now, keep it up.”

I sucked hard, bobbing backwards and forwards along his steely length, swishing my tongue along the underside and over the rounded head in an ever-changing pattern.

“Good, good,” he panted. “Ah, that’s good. Ssssiiiiith. Don’t stop.” He tugged at my hair when I seemed to be flagging, and I tried my best to keep going, despite a rapidly fatiguing jaw.

He jerked himself into me, faster and faster, while I tried to keep from choking. I was on the brink of having to pull back, my eyes wet and streaming, when he held quiveringly still and bunched my hair tight in his fist.

His long harsh breath out coincided with a jet of some bitter, salty liquid hitting the back of my throat. I hadn’t expected it, for some reason, and I had no idea what to do in this situation.

“Swallow it,” he gasped, tapping the side of my face as he pulled out.

Reflexively, I obeyed. It wasn’t exactly nectar, but it could have been worse – and the proud satisfaction written all over him as he gazed down at me made it worth doing.

“I didn’t think I had any more left in me,” he said, pulling me to my feet and crushing me against him. “You’re quite a miracle worker, Lady Hux.”

We kissed, then he turned me around and had me brace my palms against the marble wall. I didn’t know what he had in mind, and concentrated anxiously on the rawness inside me, hoping he wasn’t going to try and push me too far.

He kissed and sucked at the back of my neck until I couldn’t hold back my moans of pleasure, then moved lower down my back, dropping finally on to his knees – a relief, because it meant I was safe. He gave my bottom the same treatment as my neck had received, devouring my rounded cheeks until I was sure he must have marked them. I squirmed, wet from more than the shower, hardly knowing what I wanted him to do to me, but knowing that he had to do _something_.

“Let’s see the damage,” he murmured, parting my lower lips with his thumbs and taking a good long look at the parts that had once been private. My stomach was knotted with erotic tension now, the tenderness inside doing nothing to damp down the building heat. “Mm, I see,” he said, kissing my inner thighs with slow, sensual thoroughness. “You’ve been very soundly fucked, haven’t you?”

His analysis of my condition fanned the flames within. His mouth was so close to my clit. If he would just…

I wriggled a bit, showing him what I wanted.

He laughed and spread me wider. “Yes, I’m ready for my breakfast,” he said. “Since you’ve had yours without me.”

The tip of his tongue traced the perimeter of my clit, very slowly, making me tremble and wonder if my legs would hold me up for much longer. He closed his whole mouth over the swollen bud, kissing then sucking on it. The shower wall was too flat. I needed something to cling to. My calves were shaking, but nothing would induce me to interrupt this heavenly sensation.

Hux used his tongue to tease and probe, lavishing my spread with lascivious diligence. I felt myself pouring into him, unable to control my body’s ecstatic response. Halfway through, I had to slide down on to my knees, unable to stand any more. I laid my head on the floor and pushed into him, delirious and dizzy.

He didn’t flinch, continuing his devilish work in this new position, bending over me and feasting until I gave him what he was after – the reward and the confession that was my orgasm.

He laughed against my clit, the vibrations of his voice intensifying my climax until I was used up and wrung out, a limp rag on the shower floor.

I lay in a daze on the bed while he shaved, drifting in and out of dreams.

When he came back in, he was his impeccable self, hair slicked back, clean and shining.

“You should get dressed,” he said, pulling open the wardrobe door and selecting a variety of garments. “Here. Try this for size.”

“We have to get dressed?” I pouted, having no wish to leave this bed for the rest of the day.

“We’ll be expected upstairs at some point,” he said. “Mother’s laid on some kind of reception for the guests who stayed overnight.”

“Oh kriff, really?”

He frowned at my obvious dismay.

“You’re a general’s wife now, Lilani,” he said sternly. “Certain standards of behaviour are expected of you.”

“I didn’t get the memo,” I sulked, picking up the dress he had laid out for me. It was elegant and ladylike. I had never been either of these things.

“Underwear,” he said, passing over some kind of flimsy lacy stuff.

I put it on and posed in the mirror. As I had hoped, this softened Hux’s demeanour somewhat. He came over to stand behind me, clasping his hands over my belly.

“I’d prefer to stay here,” he said, kissing my ear. “Of course I would. But we left the wedding early last night, and mother will be expecting some kind of reparation for that. It’s just for an hour or so, then we can come back here.”

I laid my head back against his shoulder. He grazed the exposed part of my neck with his fingernails, stroking slowly up and down.

“They can’t object,” he said quietly. “If they want the grandchildren they’re always pestering me about.”

My heart contracted. Grandchildren. The birth control pills. I needed to get hold of them.

“I might just go up and fetch my old backpack first,” I said, wriggling out from his hold. “If I can remember where that bedroom was.”

“What do you want that for?” he asked, sorting out his own clothes and beginning to dress. “You have everything you need here.”

“Oh, just some personal stuff,” I said vaguely, stepping into the elegant dress.

“Well, surely it can wait,” said Hux, buttoning his shirt. “What can you need so urgently?”

“You’re right,” I said, trying to swallow my panic. “It isn’t urgent. I’ll go and get it later.”

“If I can spare you,” he said, swiping at me as I passed and pulling me against him. “You’re gorgeous. That dress… I may have to rip it off you later.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” I said, submitting to his kiss while my mind worked furiously on the best way to get hold of my pills.

“All right,” he said, releasing me. “Let’s make sure we’re presentable and then we’ll go up and show ourselves.”

 


	9. The Intensity Increasing

The senior Huxes presided over a gracious room populated by middle-aged and older people, grouped on sofas while musicians played discreetly in the background. Along one wall, a long table was loaded with a breakfast buffet. All the serving dishes and display stands were made of silver; it winked in the remains of the sunlight, although it was almost gone. At one end of the room, a window was open, but the curtain was blowing wildly and the day had lost its mild early promise.

“Ah, my dears!” Madam Hux approached us, open-armed, and laid cold dry kisses on both my cheeks. “We have been waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry if we’re late,” I said timidly, but Hux nudged me as if I’d spoken out of turn.

“Good morning, mother,” he said. “We’ll come and join you once we’ve found some breakfast.” Taking my arm and leading me to the buffet table he spoke in a low voice. “There’s no need to be apologetic. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But she said she’d been waiting…”

“And I daresay she _has_. But nobody forced her to.” He dropped two sausages on to his plate, then offered me the tongs. “You are a high status member of the First Order now. Act like one.”

“But I don’t know how.”

“You could do much worse than watch my parents and follow their example,” he said. “Eggs?”

“Thank you.”

We filled our plates and took them to the central seating area, where jugs of caffa steamed in readiness for us on low scatter tables. Droids whirred around, pouring cups and whisking away empties.

“Well, Taran,” said Commandant Hux with a knowing smile. “We wondered if we’d be seeing you at all today.”

“I appreciate our departure from the wedding reception was early,” said Hux calmly. “But Lilani was very tired.”

Commandant Hux, together with the other people around us, all gave me a long onceover. The blood rushed to my cheeks. Apparently they weren’t convinced.

“She still looks shattered now,” said the violet-smelling lady from the reception. Nobody knew where to look. The violet-lady laughed. “And so she should. Ah, I remember my own wedding night as if it were yesterday…”

“We all miss Hadron,” said Madam Hux hastily, clearly keen to change the subject. “How he would have enjoyed this occasion.”

“Yes, he would,” sighed violet-lady, her eyes dimming. “He surely would. It was his fondest wish to see the Tarkin star in the ascendant once more.”

“Oh, was he a Tarkin?” I asked eagerly, putting aside my plate, despite my ravenous appetite.

“Yes, he would have been some kind of cousin of yours,” she said. “Third or fourth…several times removed no doubt…but Tarkin blood ran in his veins.”

This was a fascinating thought – I may well have living relatives out here somewhere.

“If only we’d been blessed with children,” she continued, “I’m sure you and they could have been good friends.” She sighed.

“Perhaps we could be good friends instead?” I suggested, wanting to mine her knowledge of my family history.

She smiled and put her thin hand in mine. “How lovely. I should like that,” she said. “But I haven’t introduced myself. Lady Marketa Fass. My husband was a general too, long ago.”

“We have a lot in common then.”

The men began talking about Hux’s ship after that; all the old fellows seemed passionately interested in the specifications and systems and other dull stuff like that. I kept quiet, picking at my food, sipping at my caffa, watching and listening without being able to make head or tail of what my husband was on about. He obviously knew an awful lot, and the elders listened to him respectfully, their admiration evident. Only his father seemed unimpressed, cutting in here and there with a clarification or aside, as if jealous of the attention his son was getting.

I had nothing to contribute to this discussion, and it occurred to me that now might be the perfect time to slip away in search of my backpack.

“Would you excuse me a moment,” I said, eyeing my escape route. “Too much caffa, sorry.”

Before anyone could reply, I was on my way to the door, mentally calculating the best route to my former bedroom. It took me a while to find it, but eventually I found an area that looked familiar and tried every door until I hit on the right one.

Seeing my backpack still stowed neatly under a bedside chair, I sat down on the bed and took a few long breaths of relief. _Yes_.

I lunged at it and tore open the secret pocket. I’d need to sew it back up again later, but for now the main thing was to neck down the pill and get the backpack into my new quarters.

I swallowed it quickly and hightailed it out of there, trying to work out how to get to Hux’s suite. It was a couple of floors down, I thought, and on the opposite side of the compound. Somehow I needed to get across the building…but how was another thing.

I tried all kinds of routes, finding myself at dead ends or in service corridors more often than I could stand. I was almost crying with frustration by the time I finally recognised a landing close to our living quarters.

I had been out of the reception for nearly half an hour. Of course nobody would be crass enough to ask what could have kept me in the bathroom for that long, but everyone would wonder. And Hux might have a word or two to say about it later. Charming as he’d been until now, I really didn’t think I’d enjoy being on the receiving end of his displeasure.

But there was no help for it. If I was to avoid fetching up in a birthing suite nine months from now, my mission had to be completed. I was halfway across the landing when I heard footsteps approaching swiftly from one of the access corridors.

Panicking, I dumped my backpack into a large ornamental urn against the nearest wall, stuffing it down just in time before coming face to face with a decidedly irascible Hux.

“Whatever have you been up to?” he scolded, seething down at me from a great height. “Yet _again_ I’ve had to leave an important gathering to search high and low for you. I could make excuses for you yesterday, but this time I can assure you everyone’s patience is wearing very thin.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just…not feeling too good.”

“So you went to the bathroom,” he pursued, unmollified, “which is directly opposite the reception room. Nowhere near here.”

“Oh!” I stammered. “I must have…not seen that one. I tried to find our quarters instead…and got a bit lost…”

He narrowed his eyes, and my jumping heart was sure he knew I was lying.

“Well, I’ll have to deal with you later,” he said, taking my wrist and marching me off like an errant child. “Everyone will be waiting for us.”

“What’s so important that it requires our presence?” I muttered, trying not to think about what his ‘dealing with me’ might involve.

“Lilani,” he said sharply, stopping mid-stride to glare at me. “It is simple good manners not to run out of a reception being held in your honour. Is it really necessary for me to explain why?”

My lip quivered. I hated having him angry with me.

“But it’s not my fault if I feel unwell,” I pleaded.

“Unwell? You’re tired, that’s all. So am I, but no amount of sleeplessness would persuade me to desert my duty.”

“Jolly good for you,” I snarked. “My hero.”

His cheek twitched and my stomach churned, making me wish I could unsay the words before he said or did something truly worrying.

But he didn’t. Instead he made a precise quarter-turn on his heel and resumed his too-fast progress towards the reception room.

 _Our first marital row_ , I thought, trying to make it sound like something trivial that we would laugh about one day, but it didn’t feel like that. It felt extremely unsettling, and I verged on tears for the rest of the horrible reception, speaking only when pressed and eating none of the delicacies I was offered.

“Daughter,” said Madam Hux, when I waved away a plate of pastries on its second circulation. I bristled at the word, and my distaste must have registered on my face. “I’m afraid our company is not to your taste.”

“I’m a little tired, that’s all,” I said.

“Tired at your wedding reception, tired the next day,” said Madam Hux. “I wonder if we need to get you looked at. What do you think, Brendol? Shall we book a medical for her?”

“I think that’s for Taran to decide,” said Commandant Hux. “But I doubt there’s any problem. The medical records I had sent over from Zyron didn’t indicate anything.”

“Weren’t _you_ tired the day after your wedding?” asked my new ally, Lady Fass. I wanted to give her a big cheer. “Or don’t you remember that long ago?”

Madam Hux’s lips snapped shut. Ignoring Lady Fass, she spoke to my husband.

“What’s your opinion, Taran? She may be suffering from iron deficiency or something of that nature. Oughtn’t we to check it out before…” She coughed delicately, then shot me a feline smile. “Before it becomes significant.”

I thought I’d better speak up before they all got into the habit of talking about me over my head.

“I don’t need a medical,” I said. “I’m fine. Just – as Lady Fass says – it’s been a very busy time and I’m tired.”

Hux, however, had his own views on the matter.

“If you’ll remember, I suggested a medical exam should take place before the wedding. In the event, pressures of time made it impossible, but I would be in favour of having one done as soon as can be arranged.”

I stared at him, dismayed. Why was he joining in this discussion of me as if I was some prize livestock to be inspected before going to market?

“Do you think I’m defective in some way?” I asked. “You ought to know…after last night…” I broke off, unable to say any more than that in such polite company. Although I wasn’t sure any more that they deserved to be called ‘polite’. I found them mostly rude and overbearing.

“Of course not,” he said, covering my hand with his in a way that was more patronising than reassuring. “But you know, certain conditions remain latent for many years. If you have any of them, early diagnosis is key to treatment.”

I continued to stare, unable to argue, although I had a feeling this whole rigmarole was Madam Hux’s way of exerting control over me, and my actual health was a side issue.

“Exactly,” she said.

“It’s for you,” said Hux, stroking my fingers. “You’re the one who will benefit from it.”

“But I’m fine,” I quavered, seeing my future and knowing that it consisted of having no power whatsoever while various Huxes pushed me into whatever they wanted.

“Let’s hope so,” he said gently, squeezing my hand. “Contact the Assessment Centre,” he requested of his parents. “Ask them to come and see Lilani at their earliest convenience.”

“Of course,” said Madam Hux with a teeth-baring smile, directed at me. “And now perhaps you should take her back to your quarters so she can rest.”

“Yes,” said Hux, rising with me. “We’ll take our leave, for the time being.”

His mother stood up to embrace him.

I don’t think I was meant to hear what she said to him, and I missed the first part, but I caught the last.

“…she has to learn.”

“She will,” whispered Hux. “It’s all in hand.”

“What’s all in hand?” I asked, once we reached the relative safety of the corridor.

“You are,” he said. “Or at least, you will be.”

“What do you mean by that?” I was almost running to keep up with him.

He didn’t reply.

“And I don’t want that medical,” I added. “There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t want to be prodded and poked by some stranger.” _Apart from you_.

Again, he held his peace until we arrived at our quarters.

Once inside, he took me by the shoulders, steered me to a chair on one side of an ornate black marble fireplace and sat me down in it.

He took a seat in the opposite chair, crossed his legs, steepled his fingers and gave me a long and very unnerving look.

“What?” I faltered. I began to see how he’d climbed to such a high rank in such a short space of time. Authority exuded from every pore.

“I’ve made a lot of allowances for you, Lilani, since you arrived here. I’ve told myself that you’re young, you’re inexperienced and, above all, you’re completely unaccustomed to our ways.”

This was definitely the prelude to something I didn’t want to hear. I did my best doe eyes and quivering lip in the hope it might cause him to dilute any telling-off I had coming. It didn’t work.

“But there is no excuse for constantly absenting yourself from gatherings for long periods of time. It’s rude and inexplicable. Why are you doing it? Are you trying to embarrass me?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then explain. Is this acceptable behaviour in the New Republic?”

“No, look, I’m not doing this on _purpose._ I just got lost, that’s all.”

My eyes slid guiltily to one side. Unfortunately for me, he observed and understood the sign.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” he said, his gaze steady and unrelenting.

“There isn’t.”

“I thought you promised to be honest with me.”

“I did. I am.” But I could see that my assertions cut none of the substantial amount of ice between us.

“I will find out what you’re trying to hide,” he said. “It will be much better for you if you tell me now.”

I looked at my feet. This could be an opening to discuss the procreation issue. After all, I had always intended to talk my feelings through with him. But I felt too intimidated to make the attempt face to face. I knew I would lose the argument and he would get his way. Perhaps, when he was back on his ship, I could send him a letter. Or perhaps it was best to just keep on quietly taking the pills and saying nothing about it. At the moment, it seemed the safest option by far.

“There’s nothing to tell,” I mumbled. “And I don’t mean to offend anyone.”

“Well, it’s too late for that.” Hux sat forward, still eyeing me like some kind of orange-topped bird of prey. “Offence has been taken.”

“I’m sorry, then,” I said, longing to put an end to all this and go back to being blissful newlyweds.

“That’s something,” he said. “Although it isn’t only me you owe an apology.”

“What do you want?” I said, tired of this now, and snappish with it. “Sackcloth and ashes?”

Instantly, I became aware that this was a bad move. I quailed beneath another long and disapproving look.

“My mother thinks,” he said, “- and I agree with her – you need an intensive course in how to conduct yourself as the wife of a First Order general.”

“A course? Like…lessons?”

He nodded. “Exactly, lessons. And I think the first one can be learned here and now. In the First Order, for every action, there is a consequence.”

“I think that’s pretty generally true, isn’t it?” I said, but I was playing for time. My stomach was dropping lower and lower. The more I tried to defend myself, the deeper into trouble I seemed to fall.

“But in the First Order, our standards are very high,” he said. “And the consequences can be harder than you expect.”

I swallowed. Now I was scared.

He recognised this, and softened his demeanour a little.

“There is a lot for you to learn, I know,” he said. “But the sooner you start, the sooner you can be confident in your role, and a credit to me. I know you will be, given time.” He smiled, and I found myself able to take a breath, albeit a shuddery one.

“You are a member of the First Order now,” he continued, “at the most junior level. The equivalent of an entry-level cadet, I suppose. And, since you aren’t much older, perhaps elements of their training regime might be suitable for you. But I’ll grant you one concession that I wouldn’t to a cadet.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll give you a choice.”

My throat went dry. What was he about to do to me?

“So, then,” he said. “The lesson – can you remember it?”

“That every action has a consequence,” I said.

“Correct. In this case, the action was your wandering off and abandoning your duties at the reception. I wonder what you think the consequence should be?”

When he said consequence, he meant punishment. That much was clear now. I wanted to leap up and tell him I wouldn’t be treated like some snotty cadet by him, but something kept me glued to my seat. Something that included fear, but also, weirdly, arousal. I was more attracted to him than ever. What the hell was wrong with me?

I tried a risky gambit. “A kiss?” I suggested, pouting my lips in invitation.

He almost smiled. Almost.

“That’s a tempting offer, but the feminine wiles will have to wait until later. No other suggestions? Well, I’ll just have to give you your options then.”

He paused, and this time he did smile, but the smile was a very long way from reassuring.

“For our youngest officer cadets, there are two forms of discipline. One is rigorous physical exercise – so a gruelling extra hour of gym training, under the supervision of a commanding officer. What would you say to that?”

“Kriff, no,” I said. Circuit training had been my most hated module at the junior institute. I’d dropped it like a hot potato as soon as I was able.

“Then perhaps you’ll prefer the alternative,” he said. “I believe it’s outlawed in the Republic, but still very much in use by the First Order.”

“Outlawed?” I said nervously. Surely he wasn’t going to cut off a finger or similar?

“Apparently it’s an affront to inter-species dignity,” he said. “But I find it highly effective.” The look in his eye was different now; it wasn’t cold and hard any more. It was heated and gloating. “Corporal punishment, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I WONDER what she'll choose, hahaha.


	10. To Feel How Fire Will Feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, lovely commenters, for your thoughts and feelings! The dynamic between Hux and Lilani is about to change in an interesting way...

I sucked in a breath, feeling my eyes expand beyond what I’d thought was their capacity.

This, I sensed, was a pivotal moment in our relationship. My future could be made or broken by how I handled it.

A knee-jerk response had to be avoided. This required calm consideration. So I gave the situation silent, serious thought, and came up with a plan.

My reasoning was this: Hux was expecting me to react in a certain way. If I gave him the reaction he expected, he would then hold every card and I would find it close to impossible to claw back any shred of control over my life.

I had to try and predict what he expected me to do, and buck his expectation.

There were three likely scenarios.

Scenario one – the most likely – was that he expected me to break down and make a tearful plea for mercy and forgiveness. I had a feeling that, if I did this, he would enjoy exercising his power of magnanimity and would indeed let me off the punishment. But the benefits of that would be unacceptably short term; he would know that he could manipulate me in this way any time he liked.

Scenario two was that he expected me to choose the gym punishment as the lesser of two evils. This again would confer no advantage upon me, as it would signal my meek and unquestioning acceptance of his authority. Plus I would have to spend an hour in the gym, no thanks.

Scenario three was that he expected me to put up a fight. This was the least likely because I was so vulnerable here, and the intensity of the last couple of days had sapped my mental energy. I had not shown him any sign that I had a capacity for meaningful resistance, so it might surprise him. All the same – for the reasons mentioned – it was not a fight I could win without allies, and I had none. This would do nothing but delay the inevitable.

So I had to find a fourth way, and it struck me very quickly – in fact, all these thoughts flashed through me in rapid time, like dominoes in sequence, the possible solution presenting itself at the end of the run.

I had to confound him with a reaction he wasn’t expecting, and the last thing he would expect was…

I exhaled and bit my lip, shooting a studiedly flirtatious glance at him from under my lashes.

“You mean you want to give me a good spanking?” I said breathily.

Hux was deliberately hard to read, but I saw a hint of pink flare around his neck and cheekbones. Aha. This could be interesting.

“Like the guys in those old-fashioned romances?” I continued. “Banned in the Republic now…but I remember a couple being file-shared at the institute. I saved them on my old datapad. Used to take a look now and then, mostly at night…”

He coughed. “Lilani…” he said, his voice rough around the edges.

The funny thing was that all of this true. I did have a secret fascination with the illicit practices of the old world. I’d never admitted it to anyone before, and never intended to, but Hux’s growing discomfiture told me that I had scored a bullseye.

He shifted in his seat.

“I’ve often thought I might like to give it a try,” I persisted. “If only I could find a man who was keen…”

I tailed off, aware of Hux’s glassy eyes fixed on me and the hectic bobbing of his adam’s apple.

“Are you serious?” he said after a loaded pause.

Was I? Was I serious? Could I go through with it, if he took this ball and ran with it?

Judging by the pitter-patter of my heart and the increasing squirminess between my legs, it seemed I could.

He leant suddenly forward and beckoned.

“Come over here.”

Now was the moment of truth. My chest contracted, but I knew that the most important thing was to show no fear, so I got to my jittery feet and crossed the floor. As soon as I was within arm’s reach of him, he hooked me round the waist and pulled me on to his lap.

Cupping my face and pressing his forehead to mine, he whispered, “I asked you a question, Lilani. Are you serious? Do you really want to do this?”

I curled my fingers into the lapel of his jacket. Dangerous heat radiated from him.

“I’ve told you,” I said. “I think it would turn me on. It’s turning me on right now, thinking that you might do it.”

“Sith,” he cursed, his voice guttural.

He drew his head back, scanning me intently.

“I didn’t think you’d… I was just trying to frighten you. I didn’t think women…without payment, at least…” My triumph was clear. I had thrown him for a loop and now he was at a loss. He would recover himself quickly, I thought, so now was the time to capitalise on my advantage.

“So you don’t want to?” I asked.

“On the contrary,” he said, his grip on me tightening. “I want to very much. But only if you… I mean, do you _really_ , or are you trying to play me?”

I put my palm to his cheek – holding him literally in the palm of my hand.

“Looks like there’s only one way to find out,” I whispered.

After that, things moved fast. It only took him a few seconds to flip me over his lap and have me bottom up, head down, facing the floor. I was still squealing with shock at the rapidity of it all when he rucked my skirt up to my waist and laid his hand on my lace-covered bum.

“Cross your ankles,” he said, caressing my curves. “And keep them that way.”

I did as he said, melting slowly into his thighs as he stroked. When he got hold of a handful of lace and yanked it up so it bunched between my cheeks, baring them, I kicked one leg up a little and he tutted.

“I told you to keep them crossed,” he said. “Try harder.”

“I didn’t think you were going to…”

“Did I ask for your opinion?”

It was difficult to argue from this position – I couldn’t help feeling that my dignity and self-assurance relied strongly on the right posture, and this wasn’t it. But I could live without dignity and self-assurance for now, if I had this powerful erotic thrill in exchange. The paradox of trying to assert myself by submitting to this indignity was not lost on me, but what the hell? I had to work with the resources available to me. If one of them happened to be my arse, then so be it. And his fingers felt so delicious, shivering over my goose-pimpling skin.

My knickers were tight over my plump mound now, wedging themselves slowly inside my lips. They felt itchy and damp and I pressed my thighs tighter together, aiming for some friction.

Hux’s soothing ministrations ceased abruptly and his hand fell, smart and sharp, on my unprotected cheeks.

“Oh!” I gasped, trying to work out how it felt. Did I like it? Did it hurt? Could I cope with more?

The pain had been no more than a momentary spark, so I could answer the other two questions in the affirmative.

The next few smacks were similar, little firecrackers exploding here and there, sending a buzz of warmth and desire through me. The old romances hadn’t emphasised this pleasurable aspect, and it surprised me a little. I’d assumed it might be one of those things that are more arousing in the theory than the practice, but Hux was either taking it a lot easier than the granite-jawed heroes, or I was just a basic deviant. Perhaps both.

“How’s that?” he said, his breathing laboured. “Feeling it yet?”

“It’s…ah…mmm…all right,” I said, but his hand was heavier now and keeping my ankles locked more of a challenge.

The heat built steadily and inexorably until I realised that there was a lot more power behind his stroke than he had started out with.

“You’re glowing,” he gloated. “Getting sore now?”

“Ow…kriff…yes.”

He stopped and began rubbing my rear end again, allowing me to catch my breath and work out how I was feeling about this. My body was in no doubt. The fabric bunched between my lower lips was wet, sliding and chafing at my clit with every small movement. After the night we’d spent, I shouldn’t be craving any attention down there right now, but I was. The fiery state of my bottom had rekindled another flame.

Hux’s fingers slipped lower, investigating the soaked condition of my knickers. I moaned and wriggled against them, inviting them to continue. Now that I wasn’t spending all my energy on reacting to the spanking, I could feel how hard he was too, his erection denting my stomach.

“So you were telling the truth,” he said, running a finger underneath the twist of lace, his knuckle dragging slightly over my clit. “This really does turn you on.” His breath out was long and shuddering. “I know I keep saying this, but I can’t believe my luck.”

He removed his fingers, to my dismay, and pulled my knickers down to my knees.

“I can see you’re going to need a lot of this kind of treatment,” he said, resuming his stroking. “It’s just a shame I won’t be here to give it to you more often.” He let his fingertips drift along the central crease. “As often as you need,” he said.

I was boneless, a helpless rag doll flopped over his knee. The effect this was having on me was more intense than I could have imagined. I was somewhere I felt I belonged, at last. Everything about it – the loud reports echoing around the room, my ignominious position, the growing burn and the strange liberation of giving control away to him – was powerfully stimulating.

“Do you think you’ve had enough?” he asked, shifting underneath me.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

He laughed. “Well, in that case…”

I yelped under another volley of strokes, harder and faster than before, falling in no particular pattern all over my bottom and the tops of my thighs. This was now genuinely hard to take, and I tried to protect myself by covering my cheeks with my hands. He simply took a firm hold of my wrists and moved them to the small of my back, keeping them in his grip while he continued to roast my backside.

I uncrossed my ankles to kick, my periodic ‘ow’s turning into one long moan.

“What did I say about your ankles?” he asked severely, halting the onslaught.

“To…cross them,” I panted.

“That’s right. So why aren’t they crossed now?”

“Because it hurts!”

“You want me to stop now?”

I nodded. “Please.”

“So why didn’t you ask me to?”

“I…” I didn’t know. Now he mentioned it, it seemed the obvious thing to do. But I’d fallen so deeply into a place where he made the decisions and I submitted to them that I hadn’t wanted to pull myself out of it. “Not sure,” I said lamely.

He pinched a big handful of my stinging flesh, then released it.

“That’s a good sign,” he said. “Up with you, then.”

He had to help me to my feet, and I couldn’t look him in the eye, or even the face, as he took me by the elbow and led me into the bedroom. I was impeded in my movements by my knickers, which fell down around my ankles. When I tried to smooth my skirt down over my bottom, he tutted and made me hold it up around my waist.

“I haven’t finished with you yet,” he said. “Since you keep telling me you’re not sure, I think I’d better make you sure.” Arriving at the foot of the bed, he pushed me down so that I knelt at the edge of the mattress, then arranged me with my spine angled down and my head pressed into the covers. In this position, my bottom was high, my tender skin stretched taut.

_Oh kriff, he’s going to give me more!_

I had no idea whether to be scared or excited.

He left me bent submissively and went over to the dressing table. I watched him through a half-closed eye picking up a wooden-backed hairbrush. My spine tingled as he wrapped his fist around the handle of the brush and slapped the oval end into his open palm, but I didn’t move, or make a sound.

He retrieved a datapad from the nightstand and came to stand behind me. A click from the tablet told me that he had taken another of his private collection of photographs for ‘alone time’ on the _Finalizer_. I cringed to think of it getting into enemy hands and hoped he had an unbreakable passcode.

He put the pad down and placed the flat side of the hairbrush against my offered cheeks. It felt deliciously cool and smooth, an oasis of refreshment in the middle of an inferno. I let out a little sigh of relief, despite my trepidation.

“Just so you can make your mind up,” he said softly, “I’ll give you ten strokes of this hairbrush. I want you to count them for me, and thank me at the end. If you don’t think you can last to the end, you need to tell me. Will you do that?”

“Yes,” I whispered into the covers.

“Speak up now.”

“Yes,” I said, raising my mouth from its fabric gag.

“I’m accustomed to being addressed as ‘sir’ during situations such as this,” he said. “Bear it in mind for the future.”

A small convulsion took place between my legs as I tried it out on my tongue. “Yes, sir.” It rolled off with absurd ease.

“Don’t forget to count.”

He patted the brush gently against my flank, then took up a position a little further behind me. If I squinted, I could see some of what was going on in the dressing table mirror – his upper legs and midsection, his hand with the brush, the startlingly red curve of my behind. I wished I could see his face, but this image was vivid enough without it.

I saw him draw the brush back and I tensed, waiting for it.

He flicked his wrist and snapped it down on my already-sore skin. It didn’t look as if he had put much force into it at all, and yet it instilled a deep-seated throb that made me yell before I remembered to count.

I didn’t think there was any way I could take ten, and yet somehow I did. I fussed and wriggled and tried to dodge out of the way or shield myself with my hands, but the one thing I didn’t do was ask him to stop, and therefore he didn’t, spanking steadily through every form of protest, only stopping to wait for my count when I was too breathless to spit it out.

I don’t know how long I’d have been able to carry on, when every stroke seemed like the one that would break me, but apparently I was much more stoic than I thought. Or perhaps I wanted to prove something – to him, or myself, or both of us. That he _couldn’t_ break me. That I could take anything he gave me.

“Ten, sir,” I whimpered at last, almost hoarse from the grunting and howling.

He put down the brush and cupped my ravaged cheeks in both hands.

“You’ll feel this for a while,” he said with admiration, whether of me or himself I couldn’t tell. “You’re a brave girl, Lilani. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He nudged my legs wider apart and bent to lower his face between them. “Very wet,” he said, between kisses to my upper thighs. “ _Very_ wet. Do you think you could…?” He kissed my clit, sucked on it a little, and pushed a finger a little way inside me, testing me.

Despite the rawness from the night before, I pushed back on it, urging it further in. The heat and sting just above had driven my sex into a wild extremity of need. Sweat mixed with my juices to produce a cocktail of invitation that Hux couldn’t resist.

I heard him unbuckle with one hand, then his thighs were pressed to mine and my opening was stretched and filled once more. I hissed and breathed through the sharp initial pain, wanting him too much to deny him access.

He set to work with fierce, concentrated jolts, his belt buckle jingling with each hard thrust. Taking a handful of my hair so that my chin was raised and my neck craned back, he gave me a fucking far more savage than anything that had gone before. The considerate lover had been overtaken by a creature of primal urges, grunting through gritted teeth as he pounded into me.

All I could do was cling to the bedclothes and take it, until the friction burned an orgasm out of me and his followed seconds later.

I stretched my stiff, complaining body out until I lay face down, unwilling to let my bottom make contact with anything just yet. He kicked off his trousers and lay on his side, looking down at me, stroking my cheek with his fingertips.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” he said.

I let out an exhausted laugh.

“No you don’t,” I said.

He smiled ruefully back. “I know that sounds strange, after what I did to you before…but I hope you’re all right. Are you all right, Lilani?”

“I’m…” I reached out for him and wrapped myself tight, needing the skin-to-skin contact and the shared heartbeat like I needed air. “That was intense,” I said, and he squeezed me. “But just…incredible. Like a dream.”

“A nightmare?”

“No. A fantasy.”

He kissed the top of my head. “You’re a marvel. I never thought I’d find a girl like you – I never thought they really existed.”

“Apparently they do.”

We kissed again and drifted into sleep.


	11. It's Deep and Dark, Like the Water Was

I woke up with a wince. I must have shifted in my sleep, causing my bottom to rub against the bedsheets. This minimal amount of friction was enough to reawaken the sting.

I lay half-spooned by Hux – one arm and one leg crossed my body, keeping me effectively pinned down. He slept on, pale eyelashes flickering in dreams of who knew what.

My attempts to contort myself into a more comfortable position turned the flicker to a flutter, and within half a minute, his eyes were open, if a little glazed.

“What is it, what’s happened?” he slurred, reaching automatically for his datapad before settling into full consciousness and bringing his arm back down. “Ah.” A slow smile, a stroke of my face. “You.”

The room was grey and cool, occasionally lit by flashes. The weather had reverted to type. Outside on the patio, the rain gushed and pattered, a soothing accompaniment to our lazing.

“I wonder how long we’ve been sleeping,” I said.

“Do you?” he replied. “I don’t. As long as it’s still the same day, nothing else matters just now.”

There was a clank from the bathroom and I stiffened in Hux’s arms.

“Cleaning droid,” he said. “So I think it’s late afternoon, if they’re sticking to the usual schedule.”

He leant over me a little, his hand wandering down to my bottom, then sucked in a breath.

“Bruises,” he said. “More than I thought. But of course, you haven’t done this before…”

“Whereas you have,” I said, thinking back to his remark about thinking women needed payment in order to participate in such activities. “Was it expensive?”

He pursed his lips, looking severe rather than sheepish. Obviously this was a line of questioning he didn’t care to encourage.

“Whatever I might have done before our marriage doesn’t signify,” he said haughtily.

“It does if I end up with Harthorn’s Lesions,” I said, referring to a well-known sexually transmitted infection.

He frowned at me. “There’s no chance of that,” he said. I waited. He cracked.

“All right, if you must know, I used to visit a place now and again, when my planetary leave schedule permitted. Not often, and it was highly exclusive, so yes, it was expensive and no, nobody has ever left the place with something they didn’t bargain for. All right?”

“Haven’t you ever had a girlfriend?” I was intrigued rather than horrified. I’d never understood why a person would pay another person for sex, and I was interested to find out.

“Not as such,” he said stiffly. “My career hasn’t left much time for courtship. Besides, it was always understood that I’d marry you, once my parents had found you.”

I gaped at him.

“So, you’ve spent the last however-many years knowing that you’d marry me?” It was such a strange, almost dizzying thought.

“Yes.”

“Kriff, that’s weird. When I had no idea, and would probably have objected if I had.”

“What is there to object to?”

“Perhaps I’d like to choose my own life partner.”

“And yet here you are.”

“Yes, but there are reasons…” I broke off. This sounded every bit as heartless as his confession about the high-end brothel.

“Financial reasons,” said Hux sardonically. “Yes, I had gathered.”

I buried my face in the pillow for a moment until I was able to face him again.

“Didn’t that bother you?” I asked.

His blue-green gaze was unflinching and thoughtful.

“No,” he said at last. “Not really.”

“But what if we’d hated each other on sight?”

He tapped the end of my nose.

“But we didn’t, did we?”

“But what if we _had_?” I persisted.

“I’d have done my duty,” he said.

“Horrible, awkward, passionless sex?” This was beyond my understanding, and I felt a little shaky at how distant it was from anything that would be considered normal in the Republic.

“Why are we even talking about this, Lilani?” he asked, an edge of impatience in his voice. “We didn’t hate each other on sight, so it’s immaterial.”

“What if you’d fallen in love with someone else before your parents found me?”

“Once again,” he said long-sufferingly, “I didn’t, so I don’t see the point of speculating.”

“Haven’t you ever loved someone?”

“Haven’t you?”

“Only crushes. Not really.”

“Well, then.”

“But you’re quite a lot older than me.”

“All right then, I won’t deny that I’ve met women from time to time in whom I might have developed an interest. But, as I’ve said, I haven’t had time to pursue anything. My primary commitment has always been to the First Order.”

_Let’s not talk about that._

“And besides, you had your exclusive establishment to go to,” I said. “Did you really pay to…do things…to girls?”

“Not recently,” he said. “It was all a long time ago, when I was young and…” He coughed.

“Horny?” I said, grinning.

“Free of responsibility,” he substituted. “Once I began climbing the ranks, I stopped visiting.”

“So you haven’t done anything like that for years?”

“Years, yes. About eight or nine.”

“How frustrating.”

He shut his eyes for a moment.

“Well, I did have other things on my mind most of the time,” he said. One hand drifted down my spine, coming to land lightly on my bottom. “But now I have you…”

“I don’t want you to go,” I said.

“Don’t think about that,” he said. “We still have tonight, and most of tomorrow.”

“And then I’ll be alone here.”

“Don’t be melodramatic, kitten. You’ll be far from alone. And you’ll have your research – wasn’t that an important reason for your coming here?”

Oh yes. My research. I’d almost forgotten.

“I’ve found a new research subject,” I said, smiling coyly. “And it’s even more interesting.”

“You want to research me? I don’t advise it,” he said, his fingertips drumming on my bum.

“Not you per se. This thing there is between us. What it is, how it works…”

“Dominance and submission? No mystery there, pet. I dominate, you submit, because that’s the way we like it. I don’t think any academic journal is going to publish that.”

“But _why_ is it the way we like it?” I wondered.

“If you overthink it you’ll take all the excitement out of it,” he warned. “Besides, I don’t want you becoming an expert on it all while I’m away. I want to be the one who guides you through it. That wasn’t something I could do with the professional girls – they were never really what I was looking for. I wanted somebody of my own, for whom it was all new.” He kissed me tenderly. “And now I have my wish, and I couldn’t be happier.”

My heart ticked at double time, but so did my brain. I was now more than a hired womb to him. I had given him something he yearned for, and now I was valuable to him emotionally as well as politically. The more we explored this dynamic, the more precious to him I could become. Of course, the risk to me was evident too. The more he wanted me, the more I would want him. I might even fall in love with him. Was I ready to let down my defences in this way?

Not yet. But then, his long absence, much as I dreaded it, might save me.

There was another card I could play now too.

“I want to find out more,” I said. “And I’m happy to find it out from you. You can do what you want with me.”

He grabbed me tight, letting out a long, shaky breath.

“Don’t tempt me,” he croaked.

“I just wonder…” I said, daring myself to say the next words.

“Hmm? What?”

“I don’t suppose we could do that much…if I was pregnant. I mean, it might be dangerous.”

He thought about this for a while. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’d have to look into it.”

“I’d worry about it,” I said. “Do you think… I mean, would it matter much if we took a year just to enjoy each other as a couple, before…”

He breathed in sharply.

“It might be too late for that already,” he reminded me.

_I don’t think so._

“Probably not,” I said. “I mean, I don’t think these three days fall at the right time of the month anyway…”

“Well, if you’re right, we can explore further at my next leave anyway. But I’d rather not put it off, Lilani. My job is far from safe, and I could be killed tomorrow on the way back to the ship.”

“Kriff, I hope not!”

He bent and kissed my forehead. “I wouldn’t worry about it, pet, it’s far from likely.”

“Just for a year,” I made my final plea.

“We can talk about this next time,” he said firmly, sitting up and looking at the bathroom door. “Now, I’m going to get that droid to draw us a bath. We’ll be expected at dinner later.”

After a long, lazy bath, most of which was spent kissing, Hux had me lie on my stomach on the bed while he rubbed some kind of salve into my buttocks. It didn’t make a lot of difference to the ache, but Hux told me it would reduce the bruising.

“I never thought I’d be using it for this purpose,” he said, capping the jar.

“Why not? Given that you had plans to whip me like a junior cadet.”

“I was bluffing, obviously,” he said, and I twisted round to look at him. “Recalcitrant cadets aren’t subject to corporal punishment.”

“Oh, you…that was a mean trick to play!”

“Not really. It worked out rather well, don’t you think?”

He patted my greasy bottom and smiled maddeningly.

“Come on, kitten. Let’s pick you out something to wear for dinner.”

“So what _does_ happen to misbehaving cadets?” I asked, once I was buttoned up in a long, floaty number with a halter neck and a side slit, walking through the corridors on his arm to dinner.

“That depends on a number of factors,” he said. “Extra duties, extra gym, whatever petty humiliations an instructor’s sadistic imagination can come up with. At a higher level, expulsion. At the worst, they’re taken out and shot.”

“Kriff!” I exclaimed. “That’s murder.”

He eyed me grimly. “We don’t tolerate disloyalty, Lilani,” he said.

My throat was a little dry as we approached the dining room.

“Now, remember,” he said. “There will be no unscheduled games of hide and seek around the compound this time. Your bottom will remain on your chair, even if I have to tie you to it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I said with a mock salute. “I think you’d enjoy tying me to the chair, though.”

“Very much,” he growled.

We were still smirking like complicit teenagers when we entered the dining room.

It was Madam Hux’s turn to smirk, however, when I sat down too quickly, having somehow forgotten that this might be a bad move. My little gasp of discomfort caused her to flick her eyes over to Hux and raise her eyebrows approvingly. He remained stony-faced in response, but the assumption was made. I was almost tempted to tell her that my condition was the result of mutual kink-exploration rather than punishment, but on reflection it wasn’t really suitable dinner table conversation. I guessed I was learning the arcane rules of First Order etiquette at last.

Only a few die-hard guests were left now – about half a dozen non-Huxes joined us for the meal, including Lady Fass and a smattering of retired military types.

I was placed between Hux and the Commandant, opposite Lady Fass. I was dying to ask her about my living relatives, but the old warhorses took control of the conversation, talking abstruse points of military strategy with my husband and father-in-law.

“What of the weapon?” said one man at the end of the table, cutting into the dullness like a scimitar.

I felt Hux and his father stiffen beside me.

“Weapon?” The Commandant was genial, but I sensed the effort he was making.

“This new Death Star.”

“What cantinas have you been drinking in, Wexer?” asked Hux dismissively. “The rumour mill needs servicing. There is no new Death Star.”

I looked between them, eyes wide. I certainly hoped not.

“Really?” persisted Wexer. “I heard you were the man in charge, General, commissioned directly by Leader Snoke.”

Hux shook his head. “Leader Snoke has placed me in control of our military strategy, yes. That much is true. But there is no new Death Star.”

“Oh, let’s not quibble about names,” said Wexer, patting his stomach and belching. “Perhaps it isn’t _called_ the Death Star. How are you powering it? Will it run on nanofuels?”

The Commandant coughed and turned to Lady Fass. “I heard that your nephew was recently promoted to Lieutenant.”

“Oh yes, my little Dopheld. We’re all very proud of him. He’s going to work with you, General, I believe.”

“Is he?” said Hux politely. I had the feeling he wasn’t really listening, but all the same, the desultory conversation was kept going, all the better to fend off Wexer, who grunted and reverted to his food.

Ten minutes later, he excused himself and lumbered off to the men’s room.

As he walked through the door, Hux gave a guard in the corner an almost-imperceptible nod, and he left the room behind Wexer. Madam Hux waved a hand, increasing the volume of the background music.

“These Fringian truffles are exquisite,” said an oblivious Lady Fass. “I can’t get hold of them for love nor money. You must let me know who supplies you.”

Madam Hux was talking about her ‘people in the know’ when there was a brief, dull report from somewhere far away. If I hadn’t been on edge, waiting for something, I probably wouldn’t have noticed it. But I did, and so did Hux. He put his napkin over his mouth for a second or two, then replaced it, perfectly straight-faced.

“Excuse me,” said the Commandant, rising and leaving the room.

My heart beat fast. Something had been done to that man, and my husband knew about it.

I tried to catch his eye, but he remained fastidiously fixated on the boring truffle chat. When the Commandant returned, ten minutes later, a significant look was exchanged between them.

A creeping coldness possessed my body and I felt partitioned off from the rest of the group, existing in my own reality. I had entered a world that was very, very foreign indeed, and I had no way out of it.

When we returned to our quarters, I took a look out of the window and saw a long black sack lying by a garbage chute in the rain. It was the size and shape of Wexer.

“Drink?” asked Hux, going over to a cabinet in the living room and removing a decanter of what looked like brandy.

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” I said bluntly.

Hux shot a forbidding glance at me, then lined up a pair of crystal tumblers and poured.

“As I told you, my love, we don’t tolerate disloyalty.”

“Disloyalty? He was just asking a question.”

“So he could take the answers to his contacts in the Republic. We’ve been keeping an eye on Wexer for some time.”

“You think he was planning to betray you?”

“I don’t think it. I know it.” He handed me a tumbler. “Lilani, this is no concern of yours. I’m sorry this had to be brought into your home, but it was done to protect you, and all of us.”

“So there is a new Death Star?” My voice cracked. Something huge and very dark loomed behind the scenes of my new life, and my husband’s fingerprints were all over it.

“No,” he said firmly. “There is no new Death Star. Sit down, for goodness sake.”

He took my hand and sat me down beside him on a deep leather sofa.

I took a sip of the brandy – complex, mellow, expensive – and tried to stop my hands from shaking.

“He would have given everything he knew to our enemies,” said Hux, “and then they would have come and destroyed us. I wish we didn’t have to be so watchful, so paranoid, but we do. At least, _I_ do. You’re quite safe here.”

I raised my eyes to his.

“I don’t feel safe. You want a war, don’t you? That’s what’s happening here. You’re preparing for war.”

“If there is a war, we will win,” he said. “And it won’t touch you.” He reached out to trace a slow path along my hairline with one fingertip. “Nothing will touch you, except me.”

“But…”

“Ssh,” he said, shaking his head. “I have to think about this all day, every day, at work. I have one day left here. Let me spend it thinking only of you.”

And then there was nothing to be said. I let him take my tumbler from my hand, pull me up from the sofa, and lead me to bed.


	12. A Little Piece of Rope

I lay spreadeagled naked on the bed, wrists and ankles bound with rope and attached to each of the bed posts. A couple of pillows were stuffed under the small of my back, raising my hips enough to put my open sex on optimum display. At the foot of the bed, looking down at my lewd focal point with gleaming eyes, stood Hux in a longish belted tunic and tight trousers, feet apart, hands clasped behind his back.

He had turned the heating down so that frigid air circulated over my skin, goosepimpling it and hardening my nipples into dark red peaks.

The tethers were firm but not uncomfortable; I had very little leeway, but I enjoyed the sensation of pulling at them and letting the rope indent my skin. Hux had taken his time getting the tension exactly right, then arranging my helpless body to his satisfaction. The process had left me tingling and wanting – but unable – to squirm.

Now I could hide nothing of myself, and I realised, with a little curl of shame in my belly, that he could see me glistening with excitement down there. Earlier, he had had me shave off all my pubic hair, and it felt strange and cold and very exposed now.

“What a pretty sight,” he said, breaking the expectant silence. “You know, I could stand here and look at you all trussed up like that for hours.” He smiled. “Perhaps I will.”

I had been ordered not to speak unless it was strictly necessary, so I simply made a noise of frustration at the back of my throat and tried to twist a little in my bonds.

“No, you know the rules, pet,” he cautioned. “You’re to try and stay still and quiet for me.”

He dropped forward to kneel on the edge of the bed, and my lungs expanded with relief. He was coming to me. I would get the touch I was waiting for.

He took my tied right foot in both hands and began to massage it, gently at first then increasing the pressure. I gasped and tried to keep still but I felt an undulating wave climb up my legs and break over my body, followed by another and another, and I knew I stood no chance of obeying the order.

Looking down at me, he put the tip of a finger on my heel and stroked it upwards, with a feathery finesse that made me jolt and clench my buttocks hard.

“Eee,” I protested, my eyes wide with panic. “Please don’t tickle me, oh kriff, oh noooo.”

He took no notice, repeating the process until I began to writhe and yank at my bonds.

“Tut tut,” he said softly. “Already breaking the rules. Whatever shall I do with you, hmm?”

I moaned in reply. He couldn’t spank me again – the bruises were worse than ever today. But I had a feeling Hux’s sadistic side was both well-developed and endlessly creative. Erotic punishment could be administered to more than my bottom.

He let go of my foot and dragged a fingernail lightly up my leg, just enough to raise my hackles and send a frisson through me. I wanted more, oh sweet Sith, I wanted so much more, but he just knelt there, looking dispassionately down at me, and running that fingernail up and down and over my calf until I fantasised about breaking free of the rope and kicking him in the crotch.

“What’s the matter, pet?” he taunted. “Getting hot and bothered, are we?”

It was true that I had forgotten all about the cold. My body was heating itself, and most of the warmth was centred around my core.

I tried to grind into the mattress, swivel my hips, thrust myself rudely up in a needy bid for attention, but he wouldn’t be lured.

“Don’t be so impatient,” he said. “You’ll wear yourself out, and I want to make this last.”

I shut my eyes and groaned.

He moved a little closer, settling himself between my knees, and braced himself over me. The light silk of his tunic drifted ticklishly over my skin. I wanted to bat it away, but of course, I couldn’t.

I looked up into his smirking face and tried to raise myself to meet it, but he kept himself at a distance. When I stopped struggling, he began to lower his face, very slowly, until his lips were an inch or so from mine. He parted them and let out an unhurried breath.

I jerked upwards, ravenous for a kiss now, hoping to shock it out of him, but he was too quick for me. He darted back and tapped my cheek with admonitory fingers.

“You really are very disobedient,” he scolded. “I’m afraid I’ll have to punish you. How severely is up to you now.” He put a finger on my lips. “Still and quiet,” he reiterated emphatically.

He knelt up again and removed the belt from around his waist. It was thin and light, but when he folded it over and slapped it down on my thigh it still sent a lightning bolt of sting through me.

“See how still and quiet you can be while you’re being punished,” he advised. “The better you behave, the more lenient I will be.”

He trailed the loop up and down my legs, over my stomach and breasts, back across my hips then let it dangle between my upper thighs. He repeated this move a few times until I was so unbearably sensitised – and gushingly wet – that I wanted to beg him to just get on with it and fuck me already.

But I was fearful of what he could do with that belt, so I kept myself small and tight and tense, waiting.

He placed it between my spread lower lips and let it rub against my clit in a vaguely circular motion.

I let out a gasp of need and a loud snap of pain exploded on my inner thigh. He flicked it between left and right a few times, building up the burn. I gritted my teeth and kept every muscle strictly rigid, concentrating hard on maintaining a stoic façade, but it was so very, very hard to do.

The leather fell in scorching stripes over my thighs and hips, leaving red streaks in its wake. I lay and counted in my head, trying to decouple mind and body by focusing on what I could control rather than what I couldn’t. I could hold myself tight, I could keep my jaw clenched, I could get through this.

“You’re not doing too badly,” remarked Hux, narrowing his eyes at me. “I think I’ll take pity on you.”

Every part of me loosened with relief.

“In a little while,” he added, and he aimed the belt loop squarely between my thighs. I screamed at the sudden burn on my tenderest parts and he laughed, a little guiltily, and put the belt aside.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he said, bending to kiss my helpless mouth.

The thrust of his tongue, the roughness of cloth against my sore thighs, the crazy heat at my crotch all made me desperate for him, and I whimpered needily into his throat.

He broke the kiss and moved his attention to my breasts, holding his palms above my straining nipples and making the lightest of contact. I needed more and I tried to lift them to his touch by pushing back my shoulders. He raised his hands, taking the craved contact away from me.

Instead, he lowered his head and breathed on each one in turn. They were swollen and tight, begging for more, but he teased them for what seemed like an age, sometimes grazing them with a fingernail, sometimes flicking them with the very tip of his tongue, then going back to simply breathing on them, until I couldn’t stand it for another moment.

“Please,” I whined.

“Shh,” he said maddeningly. “I’ll take as long as I want, my girl. _You_ don’t get to dictate this.”

Oh lord. My sex was hot and stinging-wet, my juices leaking down into the furrow behind and staining the bed. My bones had turned to rubber. I was straining against my bonds without even knowing it, the rope chafing deep red marks into my skin.

Hux returned to my nipples, resuming the tormentingly light touching until he had had enough of it and I was nearly in tears.

When he closed his lips around one nipple and sucked it properly, I sobbed with gratitude. Even better, he snaked a hand down to my soaked crux and dipped his fingers in – just a dab, nothing like the firm pressure I craved, but it was another step towards mercy on me.

“Oh, aren’t you wet?” he whispered, popping off my shiny nipple and baring his teeth at me. “I think you must like being used like this. Do you?”

“Don’t stop,” I pleaded.

He frowned then, and took his fingers away from me.

“That won’t do,” he said. “I don’t like bad manners.”

He made to reach for the belt again, and I quickly chanted out, “Sorry, sir, please don’t punish me again, sir.”

The belt remained in its place. Hux folded his arms and gazed down at me.

“I suppose you think I should let you come, do you?”

“Please, sir,” I whispered, my clit pulsing with excitement at the thought.

“Well, you seem to be learning quickly, at least,” he said.

Swiftly and without warning, he slid two fingers inside me. I yelped, then sighed with satisfaction at the feeling of being properly touched at last. He moved them idly about for a while, then added a third and began to work on my clit with his other hand. I knew it would take very little to bring things to a head, and he manipulated me into a seeing-stars climax in about half a minute. He stared down at me as I thrashed ineffectually in my tethers, still impaled on his long fingers.

I barely had a moment to gather my scattered wits before he crouched down and applied his tongue to my sensitised clit.

“Ssssith,” I hissed. I wasn’t ready for this. I needed time to recover.

But he lapped at me with gusto, his fingers moving again inside me, curling so that his knuckles found my g-spot and stimulated it relentlessly.

I squirmed and twisted as hard as I could, trying to escape his wicked mouth and hand, but I was well and truly held in place with no means of escape.

“Oh…I can’t…I can’t…” I said brokenly, but he licked on through all my protests, and I could hear the slick wet sounds his fingers made inside me. With determined diligence he managed to stoke me up and up until I felt the stirrings of a second orgasm.

I poured it out, on to his hand, into his mouth, and he sucked up my juices with relish, rising up and wiping a hand across his glistening lips when he had drunk his fill and I was a sighing mess on the bed.

“Oh, don’t give up on me now,” he said, running a sticky finger down my cheek. “This is just the aperitif.” He popped his finger into my mouth; obediently I sucked, looking up at him with blurred eyes.

He took the finger I had licked clean and began to slowly rub at my clit again.

I moaned at the cruel overstimulation, wrenching again at my bonds.

“I can’t…please…I just can’t….”

With his one free hand he unfastened his trousers.

I gained a brief respite while he removed them, and the rest of his clothes, but he soon resumed his torture, bending down to lick me once more while I abandoned any hope of following the ‘still and quiet’ rule.

I struggled until sweat dripped into my eyelashes and I thought my shoulders might be on the point of dislocation before Hux removed his mouth from my sex and shinned up my body, seating himself inside me with one clean stroke. I cried out with surprise, and he silenced me with a thorough tongue-thrusting kiss.

He fucked me slow and deep, sucking on my nipples and at my neck, giving me everything all at once after making me endure the lightest of touches for such a long time. Despite my orgasm-sapped energy, I responded instinctively and animalistically, joining in as much as I could within my physical restrictions.

The pillows under my coccyx raised me to the perfect angle for him to cross my g-spot with each back and forth movement. I was wrung out and worked to exhaustion, but I felt it again, with an almost painful intensity, as if my body was slowly melting from the inside and everything was going to empty out of me, leaving a nerveless void.

“You’re going to come for me again,” he whispered into my ear, his fingers busy at my clit once more. I wanted to cry, but I knew he was right. “You’re going to come as many times as I make you.”

I shut my eyes, feeling the seed of my next climax sprout and grow, unpleasurably, like a hostile weed suffocating everything in its path. I was raw inside, and the front of my belly felt as if it were on fire. But Hux kept at me, clamping a hand on my shoulder and pushing in as far as he could, as if he wanted to get his entire body up there.

“Come now,” he crooned, and he must have felt the first twitches around his length. “That’s it, that’s it.”

I was hoarse now, hardly able to vocalise my extremity of painful pleasure. I screwed up my face and sobbed. He kissed my salty face and filled me with his own rush, apparently tipped over the edge by my streaming tears.

“Oh, you’re so good, sooo good,” he whispered, his fingers all over my face, kissing me over and over again in transports of rapture. “I want you all the time. I wish I could take you away with me, keep you tied to my bed and ready for me. Oh, Sith.” He ran out of breath and lay on top of me, softening inside me but apparently reluctant to pull out and break the connection.

“Are you all right?” he asked at last, his voice slow and sticky with fatigue.

I didn’t know. Was I all right? I had never felt like this before, and my brain couldn’t decide whether it was good or bad. Or perhap my brain just wasn’t working at all. My eyes weren’t up to much either.

I recalled some jock bragging in a cantina once: _I fucked her so hard she couldn’t see straight._

I’d doubted it at the time, but apparently it could be done.

“I don’t think I can move,” I whispered.

He propped himself up with an effort and smiled down at me.

“That was the idea, sweetness. I’d better untie you.”

The ropes were loosened and removed from my wrists and ankles, but even so, it took me some time before I could move my arms and legs. Deep red indentations marked my skin where I had struggled, but the silken composition of the rope had ensured minimal chafing.

Hux kissed the marks, and the other ones that he had made all over my neck and breasts and shoulders.

“You did enjoy it though, didn’t you?” he asked, looking up anxiously.

Now my brain was able to supply an answer.

“It was mind-blowing,” I said. “Mind. Blowing. It might take me the next three months to recover.”

He gathered me in his arms, purring into my hair.

“Then we can do it all over again,” he said. “And more. Oh, the plans I have for you, Lady Hux.”

“Will I survive?”

“I hope so.”

We lay like that, listening to each other’s breathing, feeling each other’s heartbeat, absorbing each other’s drying sweat until the peace was shattered by a blaring ‘incoming message’ tone from one of Hux’s many datapads.

“Kriff,” he muttered, shuffling across the bed on his stomach to get at the offending item.

As he lay reading it, I had a glorious view of his pert, milky-white backside. His looped belt still lay on one corner of the bed, and I fell prey to a wicked urge to find out what that bottom would look like with a neat red stripe across it.

I had a feeling this would be a very bad move, however, so I refrained.

He tapped rapidly at the screen, his face tightening, lips pressed together.

“What is it?” I asked, forgetting his delicious arse for the moment.

He grunted, still tapping away. Eventually he put the thing aside, rolled over to me and pressed his forehead to mine.

“Darling, I have to go,” he said gently.

“Oh, what, not now…?”

“Yes, now. I’m very sorry. I had hoped we’d have another night together first, but I’m needed back on the ship and I must go.”

“But can’t they wait one night?” Tears started back into my eyes.

“I wish they could,” he said. “I’ll get an extra night on my next leave.”

“That’s ages away.”

“It’ll be here before we know it,” he said. “If you keep busy.”

The strength of my feeling for him shocked me. I was genuinely upset at the thought of not seeing him for such a long time. He had got under my skin so quickly and now I felt bereft without him.

_You don’t love him. He’s a war-monger. He had that man killed last night._

But as I watched him head into the bathroom, I knew that these were only words, and my heart believed something else.

 


	13. I Can't Let You Go

I must have dozed off on the bed, because the next thing I knew was my name being spoken directly into my ear.

“Lilani! Wake up now.”

I scrambled into dopey life, sitting up on the bed and blinking at the vision before me.

“Sith on a stick!” I exclaimed.

Hux half-smiled, enjoying the reaction he had drawn from me. I felt a little shame-faced myself, but damn, he looked good in uniform! So sleek and shiny, so tailored and authoritative. I was in no state for it, but I felt a strong twitch of desire in my ravaged nether regions.

“You don’t have to go just yet, do you?” I beseeched, dragging my weary carcass off the bed and putting a hand on one of his stiff-starched arms.

He pulled me into an embrace; my naked body felt strangely smaller pressed against his smart black figure. He rested his hands on the upper slopes of my buttocks. They were gloved in leather and I wanted to feel them all over me.

“The shuttle will be ready in less than an hour,” he said, kissing the side of my head. “And you need to get washed and dressed if you’re coming up to see me off.”

I rubbed my calves against his gleaming boots. How could I be this turned on, so soon after what he had done to me?

“I’ll go and explain matters to my parents while you sort yourself out,” he said, but his voice was growing more strained, and when I brushed the front of his trousers with my lower stomach, something was definitely going on in there. “Lilani,” he added sharply as I ground myself against him.

“Don’t go yet,” I pleaded in my most seductive tones. I put my fingertips to his lips; he kissed them grudgingly, then tried to wrench my hand away.

“There isn’t time…” he said.

I draped my arms around his neck and kissed everything I could get to above his collar.

“Lilani…”

“I want you.”

“I can’t…” I hooked my leg around his thigh and crushed myself into him, snatching kisses off him with my hungry mouth.

“Please…”

“You little…oh, fuck it!”

He spun me round by the waist, so fast I stumbled, and bent me over the bed. Holding me down with one hand on my back, he used the other to free himself from his uniform trousers.

I let out a little ‘ah’ of victory as he entered me from behind.

“That’s what you wanted, was it?” he said through gritted teeth, powering into me so that my knees knocked against the bed. I grunted with each thrust, glorying in the hard slapping sound of his thighs smacking into mine and the rattling of the bedposts.

Inside I was stinging raw, but I was wet enough and hot enough to want this anyway. The soreness made it somehow better, putting me in touch with my elemental need to surrender to him at any cost.

He didn’t go easy on me, punishing me for tempting him against his better judgement. I wasn’t even sure I could come, after having had so many orgasms wrenched out of me in such a short time, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him in me, and that was all.

He grabbed my breasts, pinching and squeezing them in his gloved hands. The sensation shot my arousal levels into the sky, making my push my bottom higher, spread my thighs wider, show him how mad for him I was.

“That’s it, girl,” he growled. “That’s my little slut.”

He smacked my arse once and I felt things change, felt the faint first spark of one final exhausted orgasm. I opened my eyes and saw us in the dresser mirror; my startled, blotchy face and raised backside, his sleek black fingers spread over it while he pumped and pumped into me, his uniform still pristine above his flexing hips.

One more smack and I came with a shuddering yowl, still staring at his hands on my arse and hips. He took his cue and filled me up; his climax sounded as if it hurt him, and I wanted to get him on to the bed and cradle his head and kiss it all over.

But, as he would have said himself, there was no time for that.

Instead, he pulled out, panting hard, wiped himself clean on the bedcovers, tucked himself away and buttoned himself back up.

I slumped over the bed, making pathetic noises of defeat.

He bent over me and kissed along my shoulders, sucking at my already-marked neck.

“Thank you for that,” he whispered. “But I really must be going. I’ll see you in the flight hangar.”

I heard the door click shut behind him and released a little flood of tears on to the bedspread.

I didn’t want to haul myself into the shower, because then I would be washing away the last traces of him on me, so instead I just washed my face, sprayed my armpits and put on some clothes. I treasured the oozy feeling in my knickers because he had put it there. I wanted to keep it, and regretted the fact that it would dry up and flake off before too long.

When would he put more of it in me? The wait seemed unendurable.

Eventually, after much moping and indecision about what to wear, I made it up to the flight deck. A shuttle had docked, and a pair of what looked very much like old-school Imperial stormtroopers were seeing to refuelling and checking it over.

“Are those stormtroopers?” I asked, arriving at the spot where Hux stood with his parents, watching the scene.

“First Order troops,” said Commandant Hux tersely. “But if you want to call them stormtroopers, why not?”

I stared at the white metallic armour; an iconic symbol of fear and loathing from the years before my birth. I had never expected to see it for real.

My husband reached for my hand and drew me towards him.

“I will contact you as soon as I can,” he said.

“How soon is that likely to be?” I asked, still half-watching the bright white soldiers.

“I wish I could say. It will depend on all kinds of things. Just keep the datapad I gave you close. Yes? Lilani?”

“Oh…yes,” I said, breaking out of my horrified fascination for a moment to look into Hux’s face. “I will.”

He twitched his lips at me and put a hand to my cheek. I wanted to cry, but the oppressive presence of his parents inhibited me.

“It won’t be so long, my love,” he said softly. “I will think of you, every night, until then.”

“I’ll think of you too,” I said, my throat closing over the words.

“They’re ready,” said Commandant Hux.

I turned slightly to see the stormtroopers flanking a low walkway up to the shuttle.

“Then I must go,” said Hux. “Goodbye, father, mother. Take care of my wife for me, won’t you?”

They gave him brief, tight embraces, then he turned back to me.

“And you,” he said, pulling me close to speak into my ear. “Behave yourself, until I’m back.”

“I wish you weren’t going,” I said.

We kissed, constrained by the company but no less passionate for that.

“Goodbye, darling,” he whispered, and then he broke away and walked to the shuttle.

The stormtroopers saluted him as he stepped between them on to the walkway, then followed him up it.

He didn’t look back.

I crushed my wet eyes with the heel of my hand, not wanting to be seen in tears by his icy-cold parents. I wasn’t crying properly anyway. I was just tired…just a bit lost and confused. I wasn’t crying for _him_.

“Goodness,” said Madam Hux crisply, looking at my woebegone face. “What a display, when you’ve known him all of five minutes.”

I gasped, as if stung.

“Mimia,” said Commandant Hux warningly. “There is no need.”

“There _is_ a need,” she retorted, turning back to me. “You have married a soldier, and you must learn that your needs come second to the needs of the First Order. The sooner you come to terms with this, better. I say this only to help you. I’m saying it to help her, Brendol!”

“This is something best taught by time,” he said. “Come.”

He ushered her towards the elevator, hanging back a little to speak with me unheard.

“My wife gets very upset when Taran goes back to his ship,” he murmured. “I’m afraid you have borne the brunt of her emotions. Don’t pay it any mind.”

It was easy enough for him to say, I thought, but difficult for me to accept that I had no female company in this whole place apart from her and the maids. How was I going to get through it?

“My research,” I said tentatively. “I would like to begin it as soon as possible.”

He nodded, stepping with me into the elevator.

“That will be arranged,” he said. “By tomorrow, you will have access to all the bibliofiles in the old Arkanis Academy and its sister institutions.”

“That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

“You’ll eat with us tonight, I suppose,” said Madam Hux abruptly.

“Actually, perhaps I might just get myself something and go to bed early,” I said. “I’m very tired.” My breath caught again, the dreaded tears threatening, but it was only self-pity, I thought, nothing stronger.

She smiled at that, baring her teeth.

“I hope it’s the kind of tiredness that might yield us a result in nine months time,” she said.

Her husband murmured a warning, but it was clear that he approved of the sentiment.

“One thing that can always be said of my son is that he doesn’t shirk his duty,” she continued.

Thank stars, the lift door opened and I was able to escape my close confinement with these horrors. I excused myself quickly and escaped towards my quarters, retrieving my backpack from the ornamental urn en route.

I popped my pill and lay down on the bed, which had since been remade by a domestic droid. I rather wished it hadn’t. I wanted the comfortable, familiar rumple and the scent of us – of him – next to my skin. Now all I had was the rapidly desiccating remnants of his semen on my thighs.

I put my fingers on it, feeling it peel away as I touched it. Not quite the last sign of him on me – there were still the bruises, the little strawberry marks on my neck and breasts, the soreness inside.  But they would soon fade.

I hid my face in a pillow and cried.

*

For the next few days, I kept as much as possible to my quarters.

Commandant Hux was as good as his word, and I had access to a treasure trove of academic reference material – some of which had been unavailable in the New Republic. This was so exciting that, after the first day or so, my moping about after Hux soon died down.

It only really affected me at night, lying alone in the big bed that we had shared, to which I had been tied, over which I had been paddled with my own hairbrush, on which I had been fucked until I could barely stand.

The memories surrounded me, making me feverish and tense with desire for him. I rolled up the bedcovers into his approximate shape and hugged them fiercely, kissing their silken texture, finding it both comforting and utterly unsatisfying.

I was kept awake by more than this, though. Every time I thought about where he was, what he might be doing, I felt a sickening plunge in my stomach. He was somewhere out there, trying to alter the future of our galaxy, and not necessarily in a good way.

I tried every ruse I could to avoid dinner with the in-laws, but I soon ran out of excuses.

Three days after Hux’s departure, I found myself sitting across from them at a glittering silver-laid table, trying to remember all the little points of etiquette I’d learned during my short residence here.

“And have you had any word from him?” asked Madam Hux. Her tone was deceptively amiable, but I knew that ‘yes’ would be the wrong answer, and I was relieved I didn’t have to give it.

“Not yet,” I said. “Is that unusual? Do you think he’s all right?”

“It isn’t unusual to hear nothing from him for three weeks at a time,” said the Commandant. “It depends entirely on where they are and what they are doing. A lot of the Unknown Regions have no satellite coverage.”

“Three weeks,” I said, drooping.

“But that’s in rare cases,” added the Commandant. “Of course, we must get used to having to share his communication time with you now.”

Madam Hux’s mouth showed what she thought of this. I hid a smile of malevolent triumph. _Not mummy’s boy any more._

“What might he be doing?” I asked, toying with my food.

“It’s not for us to know,” said the Commandant.

“I don’t mean specifically. I mean, I think it would help if I could picture him doing things, you know. Make him seem less far away.”

“What a romantic type of person you are,” said Madam Hux, somewhat witheringly. “The quicker you take a more practical view of your situation, the better. Instead of languishing, you should be finding occupation.”

“Oh, I think Lilani gives a lot of time to her studies,” the Commandant defended me. “And besides, I for one am very happy to see how quickly you two have bonded. Surely you agree, Mimia?”

“It’s good, of course, that you are so fond of each other,” she conceded stiffly. “I didn’t imagine it would be so easy.” The look she gave me told me that she meant she hadn’t imagined _I_ would be such a slut.

“It’s good for Taran to have a wife,” said the Commandant. “As for what he might be doing – well, the duties of a First Order general – and first among generals, as he is – are diverse. He is in command of a great battleship and all the personnel within it. He is in personal contact with our Leader on all matters of military strategy. He writes and delivers speeches and oversees all First Order communications. And then there is the great project…but perhaps that is best spoken of when it is complete.”

_The great project – the new Death Star?_

“I’ve always thought generals had to be quite old,” I said.

“In our imperial past, they generally were,” said the Commandant. “But this is a new world, full of new men, and now intellect and energy are prized above long experience. The First Order is a true meritocracy, daughter, and your husband has risen according to his considerable merits.”

“And will rise higher,” purred Madam Hux.

“Higher than a general?”

The Huxes exchanged a glance.

“Perhaps,” said the Commandant mysteriously. “But you must ask him about that.”

“What is the First Order?” I asked.

They looked shocked.

“Has Taran not explained this to you?” asked Madam Hux.

“We didn’t seem to get round to the subject,” I said, suppressing a grin. She didn’t want to hear that.

“The First Order is the great hope of this benighted galaxy,” said the Commandant.

“Is the galaxy benighted?” I asked. “Does it need hope?”

“Of _course_ it does,” Madam Hux almost spat. “You have lived in the Republic – surely you have seen at first hand the corruption, the incompetence, the poverty, the disorder…”

“Well, it wasn’t perfect,” I said, chewing on a meat strip. “But it wasn’t _that_ bad.”

“Your poor grandfather!” Madam Hux’s tone was so cold I expected her lips to turn blue. “Did he die for this?”

“No, he died because he was on the Death Star when it got blown up,” I said, figuring a history lesson was in order. “It got blown up because it was the murderous tool of a totalitarian regime.”

“That’s what you’ve been _told_ ,” said the Commandant, banging his fist on the table. “You have been blinded and deafened to the truth by a government who need to keep you in the dark.”

“So what is the truth?”

“The Republic is weak. It cannot control the wilder elements of its population, and therefore there are whole swathes of the galaxy that are at the mercy of outlaws. The black market is five times bigger than the legal commercial channels. The economy is managed by thieves. The prevailing culture is self-indulgent and decadent. Its heroes are bootleggers and renegade Jedi knights. Libertarianism has given way to libertinism. Within two generations, it will have burned itself out and left nothing but wreckage, presided over by criminals. Is that the future you dream of?"

I shook my head, cowed by the power of the Commandant’s rhetorical style. It rather reminded me of that propaganda film of Hux he’d sent me. Clearly an inherited trait.

“Not really,” I said.

“Then you are fortunate to have been saved from that,” he said. “The First Order, under the command of your husband, will be the salvation of the galaxy. Where there is discord, we will bring harmony. Where there is error, we will bring truth. Where there is doubt, we will bring faith. And where there is despair, we will bring hope.”

“Right, well, that sounds…good,” I said guardedly, but in truth I was scared. The Commandant was clearly some kind of fanatic, and if he felt this strongly, how could his son be any less invested?

“And now we’ve covered the big issues,” said Madam Hux, with an evil smile, “it’s time to scale down and talk about something more personal. Your medical examination is scheduled for tomorrow morning.”

Kriff, I’d forgotten about that. My blood ran cold – the very blood that, when tested, would show traces of my contraceptive pills.

What the Sith was I going to do?

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive me for having Commandant Hux paraphrase Margaret Thatcher's 1979 General Election victory speech - somehow it just seemed appropriate...


	14. Shooting Into The Night

Surely they couldn’t force me to take this examination? Surely if I just refused to participate, they’d have to send the medics away. But what would the consequences of this be? How much pressure could they bring to bear?

I was contemplating these questions with my head in my hands on the sofa in my private quarters when my datapad shrilled out.

My heart leapt into my throat and I fished the tablet from its sleeve with shaking hands. I clicked a few times, transferring the call to the big screen on the wall, so we’d have a better view of each other.

I saw him before he saw me, taking in his face in a state of slightly tense expectancy before my image appeared before him, causing him to relax into a smile.

“Lady Hux,” he said, his voice slightly staticky but otherwise clear.

“How are you? Where are you?” I wanted to put my hands on the screen, as if it would let me feel his skin rather than its cold glassy surface.

“I’m quite well and, as you might expect, I’m on board my ship. How are you?”

“No, I meant…”

“I can’t give locations, I’m afraid.” He paused. “You look well.”

“Oh, I’m all right,” I said, then, after swallowing, “I miss you though.”

“We’ll be together again soon.” He cocked his head to one side, lowering his voice. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. Every day. Every night.”

“So have I.”

“It’s taken me by surprise,” he said. “I’m usually able to compartmentalise. But I’ll be in the middle of something and suddenly I’ll see you in my mind’s eye, the way you looked…” He stopped and took a heavy breath. “Well, you know.”

“I know. That happens to me too.”

His eyes glittered.

“Why don’t you take off that dress for me?”

I felt an awkward mixture of embarrassment, desire and mild frustration. I had actually wanted a serious conversation with him, but now his voice had dropped to that intimate timbre and his face twitched with anticipation, I couldn’t deny him.

I unhooked my sash belt and dropped it beside me, letting my flowing gown fall open either side of my breasts. I was wearing a one-piece undergarment beneath it, in pale pink stretchy lace. He licked his lips, then raked his lower lip with his teeth, clearly appreciative of what he saw.

“Pull the straps down,” he said, almost whispering.

I looped my finger under one of the straps and let it down until my breast was released from its confinement, then repeated the procedure on the other side. Looking down at my nipples, I could see that they were pink peaks, eager for some attention.

“Touch them,” he said. It wasn’t a suggestion.

I cupped them gently, rubbing my thumbs over the sensitive nubs in a circular motion. I watched his reaction from the corner of my eye, unable to look him full in the face.

“How does that feel?” he asked.

“Not as good as when you do it,” I answered.

“But it looks…ahh. Anyway. Do you have some kind of fastening for the lower half of that thing you’re wearing?”

“Yes,” I said, already reaching down.

“You know what I’m going to say next,” he noted with satisfaction. “Go on, then.”

There were poppers at the crotch. I pulled them open, and the flaps flew up somewhere around my waist, leaving my lower torso completely bare. I felt a bit awkward, naked except for this band of pink rucked between breasts and belly, but Hux didn’t seem to mind.

“Turn around,” he said. “Let me see if those bruises have gone yet.”

I shuffled a 180 degree turn, kneeling with my elbows on the back of the sofa while he had a good look at my bottom.

“Still there,” he said, sounding mightily pleased about it. “But fading fast. Back round, then, with your legs apart.”

I sat back down, spreading my knees so he could see inside my thighs. He fidgeted with his datapad, zooming in I presumed, then reached down. I heard the ruffle of fabric, the tap of a fingernail on a button.

“If I was there with you,” he said, “what would you want me to do?”

Oh, this was difficult. I could have said anything and everything if only I had him close, but here, with this distance between us, and the slightly tinny sound and the slightly blurry picture, I was too self-conscious to overcome my inhibitions.

“I would leave it up to you,” I said, hoping this would be enough to stop this line of questioning.

“What if I wanted to hurt you?”

“I like it when you hurt me.”

He groaned slightly, and the ruffly fabric noise got louder. His cheeks were pink now, and his eyelids were heavy over a glazed gaze.

“Touch yourself,” he said roughly. “I want to see you come.”

It still felt a bit odd and disconnected, but his voice and his manner carried me into the mood, and I put my fingertips where they would do the most good. I rubbed slowly at first, feeling myself get wetter as I absorbed the feral gleam in his eye and imagined him here, standing over me, doing it to me, giving me no choice.

“Are you wet?” he asked, his voice broken and deep now.

“Thinking of you gets me wet,” I said. “And I’m thinking of you now, imagining these are your fingers.”

“Good girl,” he said. “Keep imagining that. I’m imagining your wet lips wrapped around me now…mmm…sucking me hard…Sith…keep going, keep it up.”

I half-closed my eyes and gave myself over to the sensation, hearing his occasional words of encouragement, his harsh, short breaths, and wishing they were closer, right in my ear.

I perceived his gritted teeth and ferocious expression and thought of his face above me instead of all the way across the room on that screen.

“Just wait till I get back there,” he hissed. “Just wait…”

I rubbed harder, playing a mental game in which rubbing hard enough would bring him out of the screen and into me. Harder, faster, bring him home, bring out bodies together in a clash of skin and teeth and tongues.

My orgasm bubbled up suddenly, erupting with surprising force and leaving me limp and foggy-headed.

When my vision cleared, Hux’s head was on his desk while he took a recovering breath. I had missed his moment in the crisis of my own, and I felt an impulse of sadness that I hadn’t seen his face in transfiguration.

I closed my legs and began to refasten my underwear.

“You don’t have to do that,” said Hux, raising his head and feeling around the desk for tissues.

“If you were here, I wouldn’t,” I said, snapping the two halves of my gusset together. “We’d be able to lie together. I want that now. I want you to be here.”

“I have to hope it gets easier,” he said. “I didn’t expect to feel this way.”

“Are you lonely there?” I hid my nipples, pulled the straps back up to my shoulders.

“Not lonely as such. I’m generally self-sufficient. I just _want_ you so much.”

“I’m lonely,” I said bluntly. “I mean, I’ve got my work, and your father has given me access to so much brilliant material. It’s not that I’m ungrateful, it’s just, well, I don’t find your parents very easy to get on with.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes.

“Perhaps a little effort might be required,” he suggested.

“Look, I don’t want to whine and I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but let’s not beat about the bush here. Your mother _hates_ me.”

“Of course she doesn’t.” Hux glared at me.

“She does! If she could kill me with a look, I’d be long dead.”

“If that’s your attitude, you can’t expect things to improve,” he said primly. “It’s up to you to show her what a good daughter-in-law you are.”

I knew there was only one way to do that, and that was to announce a pregnancy. My predicament rushed back into my consciousness with full force.

“Couldn’t I live somewhere else while you’re away?” I suggested desperately.

He snorted. “Such as where?”

“Well…I could stay with my friend.” Oh, how perfect that would be. As soon as it was out of my mouth, I yearned to be with Fayell. I hadn’t realised how much I needed somebody to talk to.

“In the Republic?” Hux was incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“Maybe,” I said defiantly. “Why not?”

“Because it’s completely out of the question,” he said with force.

“She wouldn’t have to know about us or this place or anything,” I said, uneasily aware that I’d already told her too much. But I wasn’t going to let Hux know about that. “I could just say that I need to go to a conference every few months.”

“Lilani…Lilani…stop,” he ordered, putting up a hand. “No. There will be no further discussion of this.”

“But I really think it could work…”

“If you set foot outside the compound, I will have you found and brought back immediately,” he said. “And the consequences will _not_ be enjoyable for you.”

I wanted to stamp my feet and shout at him, but I could see it would be useless. I was stuck here.

“Why can’t I live on board your ship with you?” I said, but it wasn’t a serious suggestion, given that I’d rather live on the point of a knife than on a spacecraft.

“It just isn’t done,” he said. “We can’t have entire families setting up camp on a military vessel. It would be chaos.”

“I’m not asking for entire families. I’m just asking for me. You’re in charge there – surely you can do what you like?”

“That’s exactly what I _can’t_ do,” he said, but there was a hint of regret underneath the chilliness now. “I’ve made those rules – I can’t be the one to break them. My credibility would suffer.”

“I bet your crew would work better if they were allowed to have their partners with them,” I said.

“I doubt it,” said Hux. “Perhaps we could change the subject now. You aren’t going anywhere and that’s all there is to it. Tell me about your research. Have you made any interesting discoveries?”

I resigned myself to having lost this round. But the game was still very much on and I’d try him again next time we spoke.

After running through some of the highlights of my recent working life, I decided to try broaching the subject of the exam.

“The medics are going to be here tomorrow,” I said unenthusiastically. “I don’t want to be examined. There’s nothing wrong with me – it’s just not necessary.”

“Goodness, you’re in a sulk today, aren’t you?” he said briskly. “Perhaps the medics can suggest something for it.”

“I’m not! Oh, Taran, can’t you say something to your mother about it? It feels so invasive and horrible.”

“I feel it’s necessary,” he said. “For peace of mind.”

“Yours or mine?”

“I’m going to warn you just once not to take that tone with me, Lilani.”

I came very, very close to pulling the plug on him, but chose instead to put my head in my hands and look as desperately miserable as possible, in the remote hope that it might tug at his heartstrings.

But Hux’s heartstrings weren’t easily manipulated.

“Come on,” he said, more gently but still quite firmly. “You’re making a ridiculous fuss over something quite trivial that might save your life and will certainly benefit your health.”

I didn’t reply. He paused.

“And to think how much I was looking forward to talking to you,” he said with a sigh.

I looked up, stung.

“Don’t say that!”

“I have people in my office day in, day out, asking me to sort this out and fix that and see to the other. It would be _lovely_ to have just one conversation a week with somebody who doesn’t want anything from me but my company.”

I held his eyes for a long moment. He had beaten me back into retreat. I didn’t want to argue and I didn’t want to moan, when our time ‘together’ was so brief and sporadic. When it came to dealing with his parents, it was clear that I was very much on my own.

“I’ll talk to my mother,” he said. “But I can’t make any promises. And the medical exam is non-negotiable.”

“OK,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Cheer up,” he said softly. “We have so much to look forward to. It won’t always be like this, you know.”

“I know,” I said, but I didn’t. When wouldn’t it be like this? And if it wasn’t like this, how would it be?

“I have to go,” he apologised. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can. Take care of yourself, darling.”

“And you,” I said. “Don’t work too hard.”

“Ha ha,” he said mirthlessly. “Be good for me, now.”

He pinged into nothingness and I threw myself down on the sofa.

Somehow I _had_ to avoid this medical. But how?

*

After a fitful night’s sleep, the best answer I had was to hide. If they couldn’t find me, they couldn’t examine me.  Presumably the doctors they had hired to carry out the task had busy schedules and wouldn’t hang around another day, if I managed to elude them for long enough.

So far, so potentially hazardous.

I knew this would make all the Huxes in my  life absolutely furious, but probably not as furious as they would be if traces of contraception were found in my bloodstream. It was a calculated risk, and I had to take it. Since Hux wasn’t around for another three months, I could lay off the pills now and ensure that my blood would be clear for any re-organisation of the event.

I awoke early and dressed inconspicuously, leaving my quarters before sunsrise to prowl around the still-quiet compound for a suitable place of concealment.

After contemplating throwing myself down a garbage chute or lurking in an air conditioning vent, I decided on the flight hangar. Surely nobody would think to look for me there, given that I had no business at all around spacecraft.

Stepping out of the elevator, I found the cavernous space deserted. I wandered around the small but sleek and expensive collection of high quality leisure craft – my father-in-law’s pride and joy, I gathered – and looked for a place to rest my weary head until danger was past.

I decided against stowing myself in one of Brendol’s de luxe models – what if he fancied a little jaunt around the system later? Instead I found the unobtrusive shuttle I’d been brought here in and tried the entrance ramp. It wasn’t locked – in a place like this, it had no need to be – and it lowered itself smoothly, inviting me aboard.

I climbed inside, replaced the ramp and found a cosy nook in the rear cabin where I could curl up and catch up on some of the sleep that had escaped me in bed earlier.

I awoke to the deafening roar and shrill of engines.

I sat up abruptly, banging my head on something fixed to the wall.

“Kriff! Kriffing kriff!”

My stomach flip-flopped as the craft lurched into motion.

How long had I been asleep? My wristpad said three and a half hours. It was mid-morning.

I crawled towards the front of the craft and peered through a gap in the partition. I could make out the back of the pilot’s head – it looked very like the woman who had brought me here.

I sat back, trying valiantly to settle both my stomach and my whirling thoughts.

OK, OK. It wasn’t necessarily that bad. It was probably just an errand. She would pick up fuel or provisions of some kind and get us back to the compound for dinner.

There was no need to reveal myself to her. I would have to put up with the unpleasantness of space travel, but that was my own stupid fault for hiding here in the first place. I was paying the price for my deceitful behaviour. When I got back I’d go straight to the in-laws and apologise profusely; tell them I’d fallen asleep in an obscure bathroom or something, beg their forgiveness, promise to undergo the medical as soon as they could re-book it.

“It’s OK, it’ll be OK,” I told myself under my breath, repeating it over and over like a mantra, keeping the wave of panic back for as long as I could.

I was able to keep it up until the ship jumped into hyperspace.

Then I panicked.

Not an errand, then. Not a little local trip.

I threw up into a conveniently-placed bucket and lay on the floor, whimpering in sick fear, until the jump was over and my ears stopped roaring.

All I could do was lie there shivering until my stomach dropped down into my knees, indicating that we were on the descent and preparing to land.

It could still be OK. With the hyperspace malarkey, our journey time was still short enough to make a a return by evening possible. With any luck, the pilot would do whatever needed doing within an hour and then take us straight home.

With any luck.

The ship slowed, then hovered, then jerked into a landing position. The engines hissed and landing tethers clanked loudly against the sides of the vessel. Slowly, the noise faded to a low hum.

We were here. Wherever ‘here’ was.

I heard the ramp being activated, then the low voice of the pilot, saying something I couldn’t quite make out.

“Standard security inspection,” said an unfamiliar voice, loud, rough and muffled by something like a helmet. I heard a heavy tread, then another – at least two sets of them – and I rolled underneath a bunk in a state of severe alarm.

From my vantage point, I saw four white, jointed feet and lower legs clump into the little back cabin. Fucking stormtroopers! Oh _shit_!

And then there was a blinding beam of light in my eyes and weapons levelled directly at my head.

“Call for back-up,” shouted one of the troopers, then, to me, “State your business.”

“Please don’t kill me,” I stuttered, aware of a warm wetness oozing into my crotch. I appeared to be pissing myself. “I’m General Hux’s wife.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, Lilani, out of the frying pan...


	15. Can't Help Myself

One stormtrooper turned his head to the other.

“Did you hear that? General Hux’s wife, she says.”

“I didn’t know General Hux _had_ a wife.”

“I’m going to radio for Captain Phasma.”

“You don’t believe her, do you?”

“I don’t know. What if she’s telling the truth? If we enact standard intruder protocol on her and she _does_ turn out to be his wife, I don’t want to be the one to tell him…”

“I am telling the truth,” I said shakily, not liking the sound of this ‘standard intruder protocol’. “Get the pilot back here – she’ll recognise me.”

“She’s gone to take care of her business,” said the first trooper. “She won’t be back for hours yet.” He paused, then spoke with exasperation. “Look, if you’re General Hux’s wife, why have you stowed away in the back of a service shuttle?”

“It was a mistake,” I said miserably. “I didn’t mean to end up here. Wherever ‘here’ is. Where am I anyway?” I wished one or both of them would take their helmets off. It would be so much easier to talk to a face.

“Where are you?” The second trooper laughed, locking visors with his colleague. “As if you don’t know.”

“OK, I’m radioing the Captain,” said the first, speaking into a communicator. “Captain Phasma, urgently required on flight deck seven. We have an unusual intruder situation and can’t enact standard protocol without clearance.”

There was a long static crackle, then a woman’s voice, sharp and irritable, spoke over it.

“What’s unusual about it, FN-2187?”

“She says she’s General Hux’s wife, Captain.”

“She says _what_?”

“She says she’s…”

“Yes, yes, I heard you. Keep her secure. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Over.”

I stared up at them; they stared back at me.

“You could lower your weapons,” I suggested tentatively. “I’m unarmed.”

They responded by jabbing them closer to my face. I curled up into a tight ball. The heavy wetness in my trousers was already growing cold.

“Please tell me where I am,” I tried again. “I really don’t know. I fell asleep in here back at the Hux compound. I didn’t think I’d end up on a different planet.”

The troopers looked at one another again.

“Different planet?” said the first one. “This isn’t a planet.”

“What is it, then?”

“I can’t tell you that,” he said. “You aren’t authorised to know.”

“I’m General Hux’s wife. Presumably this is some kind of First Order place or thing?”

The second trooper snuffled with amusement. “Yeah, it’s that.”

“Just what is going on here?”

The female voice I’d heard over the comm link wafted up from the ramp. Seconds later, the stormtroopers were joined by an immensely tall, seriously intimidating, silver-armoured figure. If I’d had anything left in my bladder, I’d have lost it all over again.

The troopers saluted.

“Captain,” said the first one. “This is the intruder who claims to be the General’s wife.”

“Let’s have a look at her…come out, please.”

I crawled out from the bunk I’d been sheltering under, leaving a wet trail behind me, and knelt in front of my three interlocuters, shivering madly.

“So you’re General Hux’s wife, are you?” she said, plainly dubious.

“Yes, I swear I am. Do you know him? Is he here?”

“If only he was, we could clear this up without wasting any more time. But he’s not on board at present, and isn’t expected back until tomorrow. Look up.” I obeyed instinctively, and got a flash in the face for my trouble. “I’ll message him with your photo, and await his communication. In the meantime, I think we’ll have to find somewhere to hold you.”

“Hold me?” I said. “You mean, like…prisoner?”

“Just until we establish your identity,” she said. “With any luck, your alleged husband will be in touch within the hour, then we’ll have a clearer view of how to proceed. Follow me.”

I rose stiffly. The two troopers got into position on either side of me, weapons still drawn. Together, we set off after the Captain. I was highly conscious of my stained trousers and the chafing of my thighs and I hoped a shower and a change of clothes would be on offer at some point, now that my imminent death seemed to have been staved off.

I wondered if I should be channelling Madam Hux a bit more, shouting about my status and threatening them with dire consequences for treating me like this. But I knew I was no Madam Hux and that any bluster on my part would be ignored or derided.

I was escorted into an elevator and taken up several storeys. We came out in a long black corridor that ended with a heavily armoured door. The Captain entered some codes and the door slid aside for us.

“I have an interesting new tenant for you, Officer,” said Phasma briskly, addressing a man in a winged cap at a desk. “A stowaway, picked up on one of the flight decks. She’ll need a shower and a change of clothes. Apart from that, you needn’t do anything with her except keep her in one of your better-appointed pens. I’ll be in contact with an update as soon as I get one. Clear?”

The officer blinked, clearly finding this irregular.

“She’s simply to be held here?” he said, putting aside the datapad he’d been working on and rising to his feet.

“No more than that for the present. Aside from the hygiene procedures I mentioned.”

“Has she been processed?”

“Not yet – I’ll see to it if you like, since you don’t seem to have any female staff on today.”

The officer showed us into a bare little room. The troopers stayed outside, leaving me alone with the chromium-plated captain.

“Arms above your head,” she said.

I reached for the ceiling, and she began to pat down my sides. Her metal gloves were cold and hard against my ribs and I let out a small cry of alarm.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” she said, raising my top to check I wasn’t hiding anything in my bra.

“I’m unarmed,” I gasped.

“That’s what they all say,” she muttered. Chilly metallic fingers tugged at my waistband. “So how long have you and the General been an item then?”

“Not long,” I said. “We got married last week.”

“Last week.” She paused in her exploration of my lower half, her visor directed at my face. “So you’re newlyweds.”

“Yes. Do you work closely with him?”

“Quite closely.” She paused to yank down my trousers and investigate my damp underwear. I squirmed unhappily. “I thought he might have mentioned it.” She sounded almost…hurt. “Keep quite still now. I need to run the scanner over you.”

She took a small handheld item from a desk drawer and traced the length and breadth of my body with it. It radiated a slightly sparky warmth that could become painful if left beaming at one point for too long.

“Of course, if he hasn’t mentioned it, that strengthens the possibility of it not being true,” she said.

“It _is_ true,” I insisted. “I don’t know why he hasn’t told you.”

Unless – oh Sith! – it was because he was keeping some woman aboard ship and didn’t want her to know. Perhaps it was this woman here! Perhaps that would explain her injured tone.

“I mean, you know that shuttle came from the Hux compound, don’t you?” I persisted.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re… oh, never mind. We’ll know the truth soon enough.”

She put the scanner away again.

“If there wasn’t that element of doubt that you might actually be Lady Hux, I’d put you over that frame in the corner next and probe your most intimate areas.”

I looked with dread at the frame she had mentioned, tightening my pelvic floor and sphincter muscles reflexively.

“But we’ll leave that for now,” she said. “Until we know who you are – or who you _aren’t_.” She checked her wrist comm. “No message as yet. Come on then, let’s find you somewhere to cool your heels.”

She left me in the care of the duty officer, who took me to a large open wet room and waited outside while I washed off the traces of my embarrassing incident.

An outfit of clothes had been left on a shelf for me – it turned out to be some kind of all-in-one white jumpsuit of a crackly, uncomfortable fibre.

I emerged from the wet room and was led, barefoot and damp-haired, to a small pod of a room, empty except for a padded bench.

“You can wait in there,” said the officer. “Have you eaten lately?”

I shook my head, suddenly aware that it hadn’t even bothered with breakfast. No wonder I was so lightheaded; it wasn’t just fear.

“I’ll get something brought to you.”

I sat on the bench, eating soup and drinking some kind of tepid tea-like liquid, wondering how long I would be here. And what would happen when Hux came back. But I didn’t want to think about that.

At least I’d got out of the medical exam, I thought to myself, letting out a hysterical little laugh. I lay down on the bench and stared at the ceiling. What would the Huxes say when I got back?

If I got back.

Was it possible I could contrive to stay here? My heart beat faster at the idea. I would do anything and everything in my power to avoid going back to the compound. Now I just needed to come up with a list of ‘anything and everything’ that I could try.

I hadn’t got beyond ‘pleading’ and ‘offering sex’ before Captain Phasma returned. I sat up sharply as her shining figure marched into the cell.

“Well, my lady,” she said. “It appears we have positive identification.”

“What did he say? Is he coming back?”

“He’ll be back shortly.” She paused. “I did suggest that you be taken to his quarters, to await him there.”

I half-rose from the bench, more than ready to spend time somewhere airier and more comfortable, but she held up a hand.

“I said I _suggested_ it. But he ordered that you be kept here.”

My mouth dropped open in dismay.

“Oh,” I breathed.

“And that wasn’t all,” she said. “I apologise for this…but I can’t countermand an order from my superior officer, so I’m afraid it must be done…” She keyed in a code on a small pad attached to the wall. One smooth black wall panel slid open, revealing a kind of cupboard space. From it, she withdrew a set of black silicone cuffs, closely linked together with a short, thick band of metal.

“Your wrists, please, my lady,” she said, so courteously that she might have been offering me a plate of delicacies at a social event.

“What?”

I stared up at her. Hux had ordered her to cuff me? Seriously?

“I can’t revoke the order,” she said gently. “Please let me put these on you. This is every bit as awkward for me as it is for you.”

I believed her. She seemed genuinely upset at having to do it.

I shuffled back until my spine was level with the wall, then held out my hands.

“I guess he won’t be pleased to see me then,” I said with a self-conscious little laugh.

“I can’t really comment but…” She snapped on the cuffs. “Why _did_ you come here?”

“I didn’t mean to. I fell asleep in the back of the shuttle. I didn’t know it was going to be used today.”

She stood back and let my tethered hands drop into my lap.

“Well, I ought to warn you that he’s had to leave a meeting of the High Command to come and deal with this, so he’s not likely to be in the best of moods. I wish you luck.”

She turned to go, and suddenly I knew I couldn’t bear to be left alone here again.

“Captain,” I said.

She turned back.

“Please tell me where we are.”

“You mean you don’t know?” She sounded astonished.

“I could hazard a guess, but I don’t know for sure. Are we on the _Finalizer_?”

She nodded. I scoured my brain for something that would prolong the conversation.

“How many people work here?”

“Offhand…about seventy five thousand. Not counting the droids.”

My jaw dropped.

“Seventy five _thousand_? Are you serious?”

“It’s a big ship,” she said, with a smile in her voice. “I’m in charge of eight thousand of those – the Stormtrooper legion.  Your husband has to look after all the rest. It’s quite a job.”

“Quite a job,” I echoed.

“Of course, he has help. There’s a very well-established chain of command, since the General has plenty of other responsibilities besides the running of this ship.”

“All the same…” I murmured, my mind working. This ship was the size of a small city. Did it have all the services the citizens of a small city could expect?

“I’d better leave you now,” said Phasma. “Or my eight thousand will be up to all sorts.”

“Yes, sorry. Thanks,” I said. “I mean, not for putting these cuffs on. Just for being…not hostile.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t be saying that if you’d turned out to be a garden variety stowaway, believe me,” she said with a laugh. “You’d have very little to thank me for then. But you needn’t mention it. And good luck with the General.”

I was going to need it, I thought, watching her departure.

I had a long time – maybe two hours, maybe three – to rehearse my story for Hux.

I’d gone back to the shuttle to look for some vital personal belonging that had fallen from my luggage…what could it be? A memento of my childhood? A piece of jewellery? A form of ID? While I was looking, I’d been taken ill. I must have passed out.

I sighed. As if he’d fall for it.

I lay down on the bench with my cuffed hands on my stomach and tried to envisage my future. Stuck in the compound with the awful in-laws, eventually running out of pills and having no choice but to bear little Generals. Seeing Hux about four times a year, for a few snatched days. Never having a friend or confidante of my own again.

But perhaps this debacle could work in my favour. Hux obviously found it easy to be dismissive of my complaints over a comm link – but face-to-face might be a different proposition. This could be my big chance to negotiate myself a better deal. A home of our own, perhaps, distant from the family compound.

I sat up, excited by the thought. I had always, always wanted my own space, after my orphanage childhood. No shared facilities, no Huxes breathing down my neck, no arcane rules of etiquette to worry about. It would be heaven.

I was hugging my knees with my cuffed hands when the door slid open again. Two Stormtroopers stood on either side of it, saluting. Seconds later, I was treated to the glorious sight of my husband in full military regalia. Even in my current dire situation, a dart of desire mixed in with the many more arrows of fear piercing my soul.

“Get on your feet,” he said.

“What? Taran…I can explain all this…”

“Rise for your General,” he enunciated slowly and painstakingly.

“But I’m not…oh, for Sith’s sake…”

I uncurled my body and put my bare feet on to the rubberised floor, finding it difficult to stand without the assistance of my hands. He watched me without altering his fixed expression. Once I was standing, he waved a hand at the troopers, dismissing them. The door slid shut.

I wanted to sit back down again immediately. My legs could barely support me, thanks to the copious amounts of liquid fear eating at my bones. Hux’s face was whiter than ever, and even his usually rosy lips were pale. His eyes were like dull chips of mineral ore, lacking their customary glitter.

“So it really is you,” he said after a pause more intimidating than the annual All-Galaxy Darth Vader Impersonation Rally.

I shrugged, trying a smile and failing.

“I don’t suppose you know anything about the First Order High Command,” he said in a low, tight voice. “Or why it isn’t ideal to be interrupted in the middle of a meeting with it by somebody claiming to have taken your wife into custody.”

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “This was all a mistake.”

“I’ve had to fabricate an emergency in order to get away without losing every shred of the credibility I’ve had to work so hard for. If they knew I was dealing with some kind of _domestic dispute_ , I’d never be taken seriously by the Knights of Ren again.”

“Knights of…? Look, I’ve said I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,” he almost spat, “doesn’t _quite_ cover it, my dear.”

I wanted to hold up my hands, but I could only lift them a little, stiffly, into the centre of my chest.

“I didn’t know the shuttle was going to leave,” I said, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

He placed a hand over his face for a moment, long fingers splaying across his forehead. He only removed them in order to subject me to a full-bore glare.

“I need a full explanation from you, Lilani, and believe me, it had better be good.”


	16. It Would Only Take A Moment To Tell You What I'm Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone still reading, especially those taking the time to comment and add kudos. Pink Lego ice-creams to all of you!

“Well?” Hux demanded, after a pause during which no coherent words formed in my mind. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

I swallowed.

“You look so hot in that uniform,” I said.

It was about the only non-lie I could think of. As it happened, it stood me in good stead.

He shook his head in frustration, eyes tight shut, but when he opened them, some of the hardness was gone.

“You won’t distract me that easily,” he said.

“I know,” I said. “I know I’m your prisoner, totally at your mercy. Cuffed and helpless.”

Now it was Hux’s turn to swallow.

“I won’t be manipulated, Lilani,” he said, but I could sense a waver, an undertone of longing, of _wanting_ to be manipulated. “This isn’t a game.”

“I’ve made a stupid mistake,” I said. “I regret it. I know I deserve to be punished.” I fell on to my knees. Too much? No, Hux’s eyes were starting to gleam now as he looked down at me. He held himself so stiffly I thought he could do with a squirt of oil, his gloved hands clenched tight.

He chewed on the inside of his lip, his chest noticeably rising and falling. I’d studied body language. I knew his palms were sweating inside those gloves.

“Yes,” he said softly. “You do, don’t you?”

I bowed my head. “I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” I said.

He swore gutturally and flicked a hand at the spy camera in the corner, disabling it.

“All right,” he said. He reached down, grabbed the neckline of the papery all-in-one I was wearing and yanked it hard. It began to rip, from throat to navel, exposing my naked breasts and belly underneath. Not content with this, Hux bent to finish off the job, tearing it apart until it was in two halves and fell easily from my body, leaving me fully nude. “But we _will_ discuss this later. Don’t think I’ll forget.”

“No, sir,” I whispered, looking down at my bare skin and the shreds of fibrous material that lay all around me.

My attention was sharply caught when he unclipped his belt and looped it in one fist. With his other hand, he worked on the fastening of his trousers. I watched with heart-thudding fascination, wondering why he was doing two things at once. The belt didn’t need to be removed in order to undo his trousers, so I could only assume he had other plans for that… Yet he definitely seemed to be preparing for some kind of sex act, given that his trousers were slipping over his hips and his erection was more or less in my face.

I looked up at him, asking for clarification with my eyes.

“Do you need me to tell you?” he muttered. “Suck it.”

I nudged forward on my knees and bent my head over the tip. With my hands cuffed, it was quite difficult to maintain balance, but I managed to stay upright somehow, running my tongue over his rounded head before wrapping my lips into place.

I pushed my mouth down, running my tongue along the ridged underside of his length. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and helped me along, ramming himself further into my throat until I gasped and wriggled helplessly.

“Keep it up,” he ordered, not that I had any choice with the way he was holding me down. “No teeth, or there’ll be trouble.”

_This isn’t trouble?_ I snorted around the wide obstruction in my mouth.

“Worse trouble,” he corrected himself.

A sudden stinging pain at my rear made me stiffen my spine and yowl around his cock. I realised a beat or two later that he was using his belt, striking over my shoulder in a downward motion so that the looped end caught my bottom.

“Keep it up,” he said roughly, thrusting himself into my throat as he laid a succession of quick, smart strokes.

I squirmed, unable to contain myself, but his grip on me was inescapable and I had no choice but to keep taking his thick length deeper and deeper while he whipped me hard.

I moaned and sucked continuously, tears streaming from my eyes, while my bottom took another dozen strokes, then another dozen, heating up fast.

It wasn’t easy to give a blow job without the use of my hands, but the whipping spurred me on to greater efforts, despite the growing ache in my jaw and the difficulty of catching a breath. I sucked and licked like a woman possessed – which I was. Possessed by him.

“This is what you deserve, isn’t it?” he said unsteadily. “This is what you need.”

Obviously I couldn’t answer, but I hoped the craven enthusiasm of my mouth and tongue gave him the gist.

“I’m beginning to see…why you came here…because you need this so much…oh _Sith_.”

Sour liquid spurted to the back of my throat. I gagged, then swallowed, drinking it all down.

He loosened his grip on my hair, dropped the belt and took a few deep breaths before sliding a hand under my chin and pulling out of my mouth.

I wanted very much to wipe the tears from my face and the end of my nose, but the best I could do was try to rub them on a shoulder, which didn’t work very well, especially with Hux’s hand steadying my head.

He ran his leathery thumb along my wet lips.

“You deserved that,” he said breathlessly. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

He gathered up some of my tears with the knuckles of one hand, his face relaxed now, almost unscary. Almost.

“You’re very good at that, you know,” he mused, picking up his belt from the floor. “Three months is a long time to go without it.”

My heart sparked. Was he weakening? Did I have some leverage here?

He clipped his belt back on and tucked himself away.

“Wait here,” he said, moving towards the door.

I wondered what the officer outside would make of his flushed cheeks and bright eyes. I sat back on my heels and winced as they came into contact with my sore bottom. In between my thighs, I was squishy and tense. I could feel how swollen my clit was. I prayed that I’d get taken back to his quarters and given a thorough seeing-to.

He returned with a coarse blanket, which he placed around my shoulders like a mantle.

“Wrap that round yourself and follow me,” he said.

“But I’m…” I gestured to my nakedness.

“I know. It doesn’t matter.”

I begged to differ; at least, I would have done if I’d thought it would make any difference. But I knew there was no point fighting the small battles with Hux when I had such a monumental one ahead, so I huddled into the blanket and held it tight, shuffling out of the cell after him.

Nobody saw us but the officer from before, as it happened. We took some kind of private service elevator out of the cell block and up to another level of the ship.

Hux had to perform fingerprint and voice recognition routines before the doors would open on to a wide, very shiny, very black lobby.

“Senior officers’ quarters,” he told me, heading towards a silver door. He did the routine again, and it slid aside, admitting us into a suite of more shiny black rooms.

I took in the discreet sleekness of it all, finding it functional but cold. Did that make it the perfect environment for Hux? I hoped not.

He waved a hand at a black leather sofa ranged along a back wall and I went to sit down, shivering under my scratchy blanket. He went into a kind of kitchen cubby and returned with a glass of water for me.

“Thought you might need this,” he said, deadpan, no hint of a wink.

I gulped it down, washing the taste of him from my throat.

“Now,” he said, sitting a little way down from me on the sofa, angling his head towards me. “That explanation you owe me.”

At least he seemed to have calmed down. I made a mental note to offer fellatio before all future altercations.

“I was hiding from your parents,” I said, abandoning all hope of lying to his face. It just couldn’t be done. “I chose a pretty stupid hiding place.”

“The shuttle?”

“Yes. I fell asleep in the back. I didn’t sleep too well last night, you see. I was anxious. And lonely.”

“What were you anxious about?”

“The medical exam.”

He made to say something dismissive, so I spoke more urgently, over him.

“I know you think it’s necessary, but there’s nothing wrong with me. And I have a fear…a fear of medical procedures.” The lie had just slipped out somehow. I looked down at the brown blanket covering my lap, waiting for his reaction.

“A fear of medical procedures? Oh no, I think there’s more to this. What’s really wrong with you, Lilani? What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m perfectly healthy, I swear,” I insisted.

He stared hard at me, then changed tack.

“Did you know the shuttle was heading here?”

“No. I didn’t even know it was going anywhere. I was just using it as a hiding place. I didn’t plan to fall asleep in it, and I certainly didn’t plan to end up here.”

“Hmm.” He said nothing for a while, but I could see the swift workings of his brain behind his eyes. “l’ve been in contact with my parents,” he said eventually.

“Oh.” I didn’t want to know about that.

“You can imagine that they’re not best pleased.”

“Yes. I can imagine that all right.”

“But at least they aren’t going out of their minds with worry any more,” he added severely.

“I guess not.”

“You owe them quite an apology.”

I clutched the corners of the blankets in anguish. “Please don’t send me back to them. Please. I’ll do anything. You can keep me in a cupboard if you want. Just as long as I don’t have to go back.”

His eyebrows jumped, eyes widening with telltale interest.

“Keep you in a cupboard…” he repeated, clearly turning the idea over in his mind and finding it worth dwelling on. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I could still do my research from here. I have all the passcodes I need committed to memory. I’d be no trouble at all. You wouldn’t know I was here…unless you wanted to, of course.”

“Civilian partners aren’t permitted to live on warships,” he said.

“Who would know?”

“Captain Phasma. The two stormtroopers who found you. I’ve had to swear all of them to secrecy, incidentally. I don’t want it known by _anyone_ that you’re on board.”

“You didn’t even tell anyone you were married,” I recalled, scalded by the memory. “Why not?”

“To protect you,” he said. “My position makes me a target for ambitious, unscrupulous individuals, and if I’m a target, then so are you. There are plenty of people, even within the First Order, who wouldn’t want to see my genes replicated. Or yours, for that matter.”

“You think somebody might try to assassinate me?”

“Well, I don’t want to overstate the threat. The risk is small, but concrete. This is a dangerous galaxy we live in, sweetness. I want you kept safe.”

“I appreciate that,” I said after a pause. “But I just can’t live with your parents. Anywhere else – literally anywhere. Can’t we get a place of our own? You must have plenty of money.”

He tutted and raised his eyes long-sufferingly to the ceiling.

“Well, perhaps I should look into that,” he said. “Though when I’ll find the time, I have no idea.”

“And in the meantime,” I suggested, dropping my voice to a husky level, “you can just keep me tied to the bed.”

He shut his eyes, sighing. I had a feeling he was fighting the allure of this idea.

“Come on,” I pursued the spark of hope. “Would it be such a problem? I’d stay hidden away in here. Nobody needs to know.”

“It would get out somehow,” he said, but the spark of hope expanded. He was seriously considering the idea.

“What if you found me a job?” I suggested. “I mean, there’s seventy five thousand people aboard this ship. There must be some kind of service I could provide…do you have a staff counsellor?”

“A staff counsellor?” Hux looked at me is if I were mad. “Nobody here is mentally fragile, Kylo Ren aside.”

“I’m not suggesting they are,” I said. “But sometimes it helps to talk – saves small problems from getting bigger. I mean, you must have crew who get stressed from time to time, or suffer bereavements or marriage break-ups…”

“Out of the question,” said Hux with finality. “I can’t have you running around my ship upsetting my crew.”

“I wouldn’t be upsetting them!” I cried, thumping a fist on the sofa arm. “I’d be doing the opposite! And I needn’t use my real name. There’s no reason why anyone would have to connect me with you.”

“Except Captain Phasma would know,” he pointed out. “And, while I consider her trustworthy, I can’t rule out the possibility that the information might be tortured or otherwise inveigled from her at some point.”

“ _Any_ information could be forced out of _anyone_ ,” I said desperately. “Even you.”

He didn’t like that, eyeing me in an injured kind of way.

“I think you underestimate the force of my resolve,” he said.

“Oh no, I don’t think I do,” I said with feeling. “That’s in no doubt at all. But Taran…what harm would it really do?”

“The subject is closed,” he said, his body language mirroring his words. Closed. Shut. Inaccessible. “As soon as Pilot Marvits has completed her task, she will take you back on the shuttle.”

I pulled the blanket over my face and held it there, letting my black despair leak out into the itchy fibres.

“What am I going to do?” I lamented.

“Stop being overdramatic for one thing,” he snipped. “You have a perfectly easy, comfortable life back on the compound. If you can stop treating my parents like malevolent gods, you might even find yourself enjoying life there.”

“But I miss you,” I said, removing the blanket from my face and giving him my ultimate doe eyes.

He acknowledged my emotion, lowering his gaze for a moment, then reaching out to smooth away some errant hairs.

“And I miss you too,” he said quietly. “Truly, I do. But you have to understand my point of view here. I just can’t have you on board this ship.”

“You’d get your precious heir much sooner,” I pointed out, my last-ditch attempt.

“As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t,” he said. “All shipboard staff take weekly contraceptive injections.”

“Couldn’t they make an exception for you?”

“Lilani, I’m not having my wife on board, let alone my _pregnant_ wife. Accept it.”

And then it really did seem that I’d played all my cards and lost. I flopped back on the sofa, wrapped tight in the blanket, and turned my face away from him.

He reached for my hand but I snatched it away.

He stood up. “I’d better find you some clothes,” he said. He raised his wrist comm and spoke into it. “General Hux to Deck Seven, request estimated departure time for shuttle commanded by Pilot Marvits.”

A voice replied promptly, “Deck Seven to General Hux, approximately three and three quarters, sir.”

“Three and three quarters,” repeated Hux in my general direction, having killed the link. “That gives you time to eat some supper, at least. I really ought to get back to work, but the droid will see to whatever you need. I’ll be back before you leave, with the clothes.”

I didn’t reply, flinging myself face down on the sofa. In this position, the blanket didn’t quite cover all the parts it needed to, as I found out when Hux laid a swift smack on the bare portion of my behind.

“Lilani? Are you listening to me?”

I kicked my legs angrily.

“Why should I, when you won’t listen to me?” I sulked.

“Perhaps I should take off my belt again?” he suggested silkily. “You seem to pay more attention to me when I do.”

Enraging as this was, it reminded me of how I had been left unsatisfied after our earlier encounter. My body was still very interested in him, even if he was the most annoying, inflexible, patronising asshole in the galaxy.

“Oh, just fuck off and play Empires,” I said.

He drew in a sharp breath.

“Very well, if that’s your attitude,” he said, and stalked from the room.

I hammered my fists into the sofa and soaked the blanket with my tears. When the droid appeared with a tray of food, I sent it back to the kitchen and asked for whisky instead.

“General Hux hasn’t given clearance for restricted substances,” said the droid uncertainly.

“Yeah? Well, you know what? Fuck him. Fuck General Hux.” Saying it felt savagely good. I took in a lungful of air and yelled it out as loud as I could. “FUCK! GENERAL! HUX!”

General Hux chose that moment to reappear. I braced myself for hostilities, but it quickly became clear that something was very wrong with him. He looked dazed, the small amount of colour in his complexion completely drained. And his hands were shaking.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, leaping to my feet, careless of the blanket sliding off my naked body. “You look terrible.”

“I am,” he said. “It is. It is terrible.”

“Sit down, for heaven’s sake. Taran. Tell me what’s happened?”

He sat down, allowing me to take his gloved hand, to stroke his damp forehead.

His eyes met mine, and there was something utterly unfamiliar in them, something I suddenly recognised as fear.

“There’s been an attack,” he said. “On the compound. It’s burnt to the ground, and my parents with it.”

 


	17. It's So Deep That I Don't Think I Can Speak About It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm canon-shafted now, what with all the Bastard Armitage stuff, but I'm going to ignore it for the purposes of this fic (which is AU anyway) and soldier on regardless. Soldier with me!

For a few seconds, I thought I’d misheard him. He must have meant something else, some other compound, some other parents.

In fact, I was so shocked, I laughed; a weird little giggle followed by a high-pitched “What?!”

“They don’t know yet what happened,” said Hux, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at nothing. It was as if he could see the events unfolding in front of him, when all that was there was black tiling and space. “We’ve sent investigators to the scene. It’s burnt out. Burnt right out. Nothing left.”

“But are you sure?” I said, all my breath tumbling out at once. “I mean, is this real? When? Who would do a thing like that?”

Hux gave me a strange look before turning back to his mental clip reel.

“I wonder,” he whispered.

He still shook, but there was no sign of tears. His body language was fiercely stand-offish, but I put a tentative hand on his.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “Poor you.”

If he even heard me, he didn’t show it.

Instead, he stood up, displacing my hand, and began to pace, gripping his forehead between a tight finger and thumb.

“I spoke to them only a few hours ago,” he said. “Whatever happened, happened after that. They were fine. Worried about you. But fine. Nobody was visiting. Nothing untoward to report.”

“Could it have been some kind of terrible accident?” I asked. “A gas leak?”

“Perhaps, perhaps, but unlikely. My father maintains the place in first class condition. No, I’d almost discount that as a possibility. Accidents don’t happen to my parents.”

His wrist comm crackled into life.

“Bridge to General Hux.”

“General Hux to Bridge, what do you report?”

“Radar records show that this was not an air strike. Investigators are still at the scene, but early reports suggest some kind of explosion within the compound. No bodies recovered as yet. The epicentre of the blast is thought to be the kitchen area.”

“Is the fire out yet?”

“Not completely, sir.”

“Thank you. Update me immediately with any new information.”

“Affirmative. Bridge out.”

I expected him to turn to me and make some comment on what we had just learned, but instead he adjusted the dial on his wrist comm and spoke again.

“General Hux to Captain Phasma, do you receive?”

“Captain Phasma to General Hux, yes, I receive.”

“Please apprehend Pilot Marvits on her return to Flight Deck Seven and have her brought to Interrogation Suite One.”

“Affirmative, sir. Will you require Commander Ren to attend?”

He paused at that, his cheek muscles twitching.

“Not just yet, Captain,” he said. “Message me as soon as you have her in situ. General Hux out.”

He didn’t turn around for a moment. I watched his back and shoulders, ramrod straight and stiff, waiting for him to face me.

When he did, that strange look was still in his eye.

“You think the pilot might know something?” I said.

“It’s not unreasonable to assume she might,” he said. “After all, when people who are meant to be at the scene of a catastrophe suddenly leave before it happens…”

He paused, giving me time to make the connection.

I struggled for air. “You mean…you can’t mean…you can’t think… _me_?”

“I don’t know anything, Lilani,” he said. His eyes narrowed. “Did you ever find that precious backpack of yours, by the way?”

“Oh Sith, no, no, that wasn’t…it’s just a backpack! Personal stuff. Oh kriff, you don’t seriously think I could…”

“Like I’ve said, Lilani, I don’t know anything. Put some clothes on. You’re coming to see Pilot Marvits interrogated.”

I couldn’t move. I sat there, clutching the blanket, my knees locked together, my head switched to spin cycle. This was a situation so unbelievably awful nothing could have prepared me for it. I had escaped a horrible death by pure chance, and now my own husband suspected me of having a hand in the carnage.

“I swear on everything, Taran, I swear, I would never…” My throat closed, a choking sob finishing the sentence.

“Yes, yes, save it for later,” he said, marching into a neighbouring room and coming out with a long black tunic, which he threw at me. “Cover yourself up, for kriff’s sake. We need to be out of here.”

I struggled into the tunic, which covered me from neck to knees and stood up woozily, almost falling straight back down again. An impatient Hux grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me, still barefoot, out of his quarters and over to the elevator.

“I didn’t do anything, I swear, it wasn’t me, you have to believe me,” I wept all the way down, but he made no reply, staring ahead as if I didn’t exist.

We stepped out into a dark corridor, close to what appeared to be the bridge. Uniformed officers darted here and there, some of them stopping to salute Hux as they passed. I was the object of some curious attention, but Hux hustled me away from it and into a small room with some kind of armoured chair at its centre.

A pair of stormtroopers came in, one with a three-legged black leather stool, the other with a trolley of assorted medical-looking utensils. Bile piled up at the back of my throat. Torture instruments.

“Sit there,” said Hux, gesturing me on to the stool. I sat hugging my knees, trying to still my uncontrollable trembling. He wouldn’t do this to me? Would he?

I didn’t have a chance to speak to him again before Captain Phasma marched in, with two stormtroopers flanking the unfortunate Pilot Marvits. Her face was grey but resolute.

She said nothing as the troopers secured her to the armoured chair. She didn’t even look at Hux, or me.

Hux walked into her line of vision, his hands clasped behind his back, shoulders square. He looked so stonily intimidating that nobody could have guessed he had just lost both parents in some kind of terrorist atrocity.

“Pilot Marvits,” he said, calmly, courteously. “We meet again in unusual circumstances.”

She raised her chin and stared at him. There was something combative in the stare and my heart froze. She was implicated in this. She couldn’t look at him like that if she was shocked or appalled, as I was.

“Remind me how long you have served my family,” said Hux. “Is it five years or six?”

“Six years, General,” she said.

“Six years. I hope you managed to put by some savings. You’ll need to look for a new job. Still, pilots are always in demand, aren’t they?”

He picked up a long silver thing with a vicious-looking hook at the end and turned it over in his hand, inspecting it.

“Did you bring me here to chat about my work prospects, General?” asked Marvits, deadpan. She showed no fear; in a way, I couldn’t help admiring her.

“No,” he admitted, putting the hook down and picking up a thin blade. “Do you know what this does?” he asked, showing it to her.

She shrugged. “Something unpleasant.”

“It goes underneath your fingernails. It has a slight bend in it here, do you see? That enables it to prise the nail right off the finger.”

Marvits took a deep breath, which was more than I was capable of. I could barely move, petrified to the spot.

“Look, General, I’m sorry if this disappoints you, but you don’t have to do any of that. I planted the bomb. I accept responsibility on behalf of the Old Order.”

“Ah, the Old Order,” said Hux with a sneer. “You don’t seem bloated or self-indulgent enough to be one of their number, Marvits. I suppose it’s a reprisal for Keldor then?”

“For the murder of Commissar Keldor while he was a guest in your own home – at your own _wedding party_ – yes.”

“And in place of that raddled old traitor, you took two of the great architects of the First Order. That’s not really playing fair, is it?”

“What would you know about playing fair?” she spat. For the first time, her eyes alighted on me and widened in something like alarm. “What’s _she_ doing here?”

Hux didn’t look at me.

“Do you mean Lady Hux?” he asked coldly.

“Yes, her, there. She was meant to be in the compound. We wanted her dead before she could give birth to some vile Hux-Tarkin hybrid.”

Finally I was able to breathe. Hux couldn’t suspect me now.

“Well, you seem to have failed,” he said. “As your group will continue to fail until it is crushed. There will be no negotiation with the Republic, and we will not tolerate those who favour such a policy. You will be kept alive until we have all the information you possess about the Old Order. Guards, take her to a cell. She’s to be put on a daily interrogation schedule until further notice.”

The troopers began to release her from the chair.

“You’ll be next, Hux,” she shouted raggedly as she was dragged away. “You and your whore.”

Hux made sure that the last thing she saw was his sardonic smile. He let it drop once the door was shut and turned to Captain Phasma, who still stood behind the interrogation chair.

“Captain Phasma, can you locate Commander Ren for me and ask him to join us here?”

“Certainly, General.” She left us alone, with just that awful chair and blood-freezing trolley for company.

I half-rose from my stool, holding out my hands to him.

“You see, you see,” I said.

There was no more warmth in his gaze than before. He took one of my hands, though, and pulled me to his side. He was silent for an unnervingly long time.

“You’re still hiding something though,” he said. “Aren’t you? Did you know what she’d done? Did you see or hear something, and decide to follow her on to the shuttle?”

“ _No!_ ”

“Because it works out rather conveniently for you, doesn’t it? You lose the parents-in-law you loathed. You get what you want. Whatever that might be.”

“I didn’t want them dead! I never wanted that.” I tried to wrench my wrist from him, but he held on grimly.

“Well, let’s see, shall we?” he said.

The door opened again and Captain Phasma reappeared. Behind her, another enormously tall armoured figure, this time cloaked and helmeted in black, swept in.

Finding the apparition terrifying, I shrank into Hux’s side for protection, not that I could have expected any.

“Commander Ren,” said Hux, shunting me in front of him and holding me tightly by my arms. “I have a small favour to ask you.”

“What do you want?” The voice was impossibly deep and threatening; he must have had some kind of modulator in the helmet.

“I want you to tell me whether or not this woman is a threat to the First Order.”

“That’s vague, as briefs go,” remarked the black-clad Commander.

“There’s something she isn’t telling me, and I need to know what it is.”

The Commander gestured at the trolley of torture implements. “You have other means, General.”

“I don’t care to use them, in this case,” he said. “Your methods are a little less…brutal.”

“It isn’t like you to be squeamish.”

“This isn’t an ordinary prisoner,” said Hux.

The Commander was silent, then he put out a black gloved hand. I flinched as it landed on my forehead, gripping it between finger and thumb.

At once my head began to pound, sweat breaking out and dripping from my hairline. I tried to evade my tormentor’s grasp, but his fingers bore into me, and they weren’t all. Something else was inside me, in my brain, mixing and sifting. I wanted to throw up, but my internal organs felt frozen, including my bile duct.

“She’s…” The Commander paused and looked above my head, at Hux. “Your _wife_?”

“Yes. Ask her what she’s keeping from me. I want that knowledge.”

“What are you hiding from General Hux….ah…I see it.”

Hux’s fingers tightened around my arms.

“Well?” he demanded.

“I really think she should be the one to tell you,” said the Commander, and there was a strange note in his voice, akin to mockery. “It’s quite personal.”

“Is it to do with the Republic? The Old Order?”

“Oh no. Nothing like that. She’s no threat to the First Order. In fact, for some reason, she seems to quite like you. Was that all you wanted, General?”

“Yes, but…”

“Then I think the Captain and I should leave you alone. And don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Keep this entire encounter to yourself, please, Commander,” said Hux, and I could tell he was struggling to remain calm. “The security implications of my wife’s presence here are substantial; the fewer personnel in on the secret, the better.”

“Agreed,” said the Commander. He paused. “My condolences for your loss,” he said.

“Oh…yes, thank you. Go now.”

He turned and left, Captain Phasma following the swish of his cloak.

At last Hux’s fingers loosened, although the pain of his grip remained, bruised into my skin.

“What did he do?” I whispered, feeling broken all over. “What was that?”

“The Force,” said Hux contemptuously. “It has its uses. So tell me, Lilani. What did he see that was too personal to repeat?”

“It seems so trivial now,” I said, “after everything that’s happened.” My legs gave way unexpectedly, Hux managing to catch me before I collapsed on to the floor.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll get you back upstairs and give you a restorative first. Come on.”

Back in his quarters, I was laid on the bed and given a horrible fizzy thing that put some of the feeling back into my body. I wasn’t even sure I wanted it back, though. I wanted nothing more than to shut my eyes and blank everything out for a very long time.

But Hux wasn’t going to let that happen. He sat beside the bed, watching me hawkishly as I gulped down the restorative. When it was all gone, he took the glass from my hand and set it down.

“Talk to me,” he said.

“You thought I was a terrorist,” I accused him, wanting my own position to be as strong as possible before I spilled these particular beans. “You had that…freakish _thing_ …interrogate me. Do you know how that feels? How it felt?”

“I was wrong, and I apologise,” said Hux. “I hope you understand my reasons.”

“I was terrified.”

“I know. It seems that we may both have something to forgive of each other. You know what yours is. What’s mine, Lilani?”

“ _Will_ you forgive me?” I asked, catching a panicky breath.

“Will you forgive _me_?” He took one of my hands. “You’re all I have now. Whatever I’ve done to hurt you, I regret it and wish I could take it back. All right?”

“Do you?” I whispered.

“Of course I do. For one thing, I wouldn’t have had Kylo Ren rummaging through my dirty linen. Believe me, if I could possibly have avoided that, I would have done. But I had to be absolutely sure of you.”

“I know you must be shocked,” I said, wanting this breath of warmth between us to last and grow. It was all I had to cling to. “I really am sorry about what happened to your parents.”

“All right,” he said. “And now you really must tell me what it was that the Commander saw. Whatever it is, I’m a grown man. I can handle it. Is there somebody else? Did you love another man, back in the Republic?”

“No. I told you the truth when I told you there’d only been that horrible man who slept with me for a bet.”

“Yes, I haven’t forgotten about him,” said Hux, squeezing my hand. “So what is it? Another _woman_?”

“No, there’s only you.”

This seemed to please him, which was good, because I needed to soften him up all I could.

“So it’s a health issue?” he surmised. “Given your overreaction to the medical exam.”

“In a way,” I said. “Please don’t be angry with me. I never wanted to deceive you, but I didn’t know what else to do…”

I appealed to him with my eyes.

“Go on,” he said, calm and measured.

I sighed.

“The reason I was so keen to keep hold of my backpack was because there was something in there I needed. Do you remember that conversation we had about leaving it a year or so before having children?”

“Oh!” he said, understanding immediately. “You mean…”

“I mean I wasn’t taking any chances. I really don’t want to have children yet. I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you…”

He took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling for a moment before returning his attention to me.

“I thought you _couldn’t_ ,” he said. “I thought there’d been a mistake in the medical from Zyron and you had some kind of…but it was just contraceptives, after all.”

“You thought I was infertile?”

“I couldn’t see any other reason why you’d be so desperate to avoid the medical. But of course…the contraceptive would show up in your blood…ah.” He sighed again. “Actually, that’s rather a relief.”

I let out an incredulous half-laugh. “A relief? I thought you’d be furious with me.”

“Oh, I am,” he said lightly. “You lied to me, and went to the most absurd lengths to prolong your deception. I’m not at all happy about that. But…I have enough to worry about without this, so I think we’ll just forget about it for now, shall we?”

“For now?” I said.

He nodded. “Is that all right with you? Or do you want a colossal row straightaway?”

“No, no. I don’t.”

“Good.” He bent and kissed my forehead. “Because I really don’t have the strength for one.”

I reached out and touched his cheek, wanting to comfort him now in his grief.

“Lie down with me,” I said.

He took off his boots and gloves and lay on the bed, letting me wrap myself round his exhausted body until he held me in turn.

“Let’s trust each other from now on,” I whispered.

“Yes,” he murmured back. “Let’s do that.”

 


	18. What Do We Do?

If only we could have lain together longer, but Hux’s wrist link buzzed continuously, not to mention the endless bleeping of various datapads scattered across the bedside table.

After only about ten minutes rest, he disentangled himself from me and sat up wearily.

“Oh, don’t,” I said. “Ignore them. You need to rest.”

“I have to go back,” he said. “There’s so much to do.”

“Surely you’re entitled to some kind of bereavement leave?”

He made a bitter sound, intended as laughter.

“Any of my officers would be, yes. But I have no intention of petitioning Leader Snoke for it.”

He fiddled with his wrist link, squinting at the messages that scrolled across its minuscule screen.

“Why not? Wouldn’t he grant it?”

“He probably would. But he’d see it as weakness. I have no intention of making myself appear dispensable, pet. If I do that, Leader Snoke will soon…dispense with me.”

He stood up, a little unsteady on his feet at first, and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and slick his hair back into submission.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” he said, returning to put his boots and gloves on. “It’s important that you don’t leave these quarters. Promise me?”

“All right,” I said. In the next room I could hear a disconcerting series of thumps and clatters. “What’s going on?”

“Detection droids, sweeping for anything untoward,” he said. “Don’t worry, there won’t be. Nobody can access these rooms apart from me. It’s just a precaution.”

I curled into a ball, clasping my arms around my knees. There were people who wanted to kill us. There were people who had tried.

“I shouldn’t be here now,” I whispered, the enormity of it finally sinking in. “I was meant to die.”

He leant over me and kissed me, briefly but sweetly, on my lips.

“It’s best that you’re with me now,” he said. “Nobody will touch you here.”

“It’s you I’m afraid for,” I said.

He didn’t know how to react to that; he blinked and rubbed one eye, then stood straight.

“You needn’t be afraid for me,” he said. “Everything is under control.”

But as he turned to leave, I wondered if that was the problem. The overriding need for everything to be under control in the face of shattering personal tragedy. It seemed a great recipe for a breakdown, and as I lay back, trying to rest, all I could do was worry about him.

By the time he returned, I had succumbed to my lack of sleep followed by intense stress, and fallen into a pit of dreamless somnolence.

He didn’t wake me up. Many hours later, a bleep from somewhere startled me into consciousness and I came to in a state of confusion, unsure of where exactly I was.

Hux was sitting on the bed beside me, frowning at a datapad. He wasn’t in uniform, so must have been off duty, yet he appeared to be still working.

“What time is it?” I croaked.

He put the pad down and smiled at me.

“You’ve slept for eleven hours,” he said.

“What about you?” I reached for his fingers. “Have you slept at all?”

He grimaced. “My mind’s racing. I won’t be able to sleep for a few hours yet.”

“Can’t you take something? I really think you should.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m all right, sweetness. When I can sleep, I will.”

“Well, at least stop working,” I said, trying to snatch the datapad away, but he whipped it out of my reach before my hand landed. My stomach growled. “Kriff, I’m _starving_.” All I’d had in the last day and a half was that bowl of prison soup. “Put down the datapad and have something to eat with me.”

He threw his head back against the wall and shut his eyes.

“Can you cook?” he asked, opening them.

“Not much,” I admitted. “Spicy noodles. Can’t you?”

“I usually have something brought to my office,” he said. “I’m not sure what I have in the kitchen.”

“Shall we go and find out?”

He sighed and slid his long legs to the side of the bed. I crawled after him, still wearing the long black tunic – presumably his – he had made me wear on our trip to the interrogation suite.

My bare feet landed on heated rubberised tiles. Hux led me into the tiny kitchen space and opened a few cupboards, glaring into each.

“I have fortified oatmeal,” he said. “And some dried protein bars.”

“Hmm. Maybe we could send out for something?”

“No. Oatmeal it is.” He poured the powdery stuff into a couple of bowls, then added some liquid from a pitcher and put it into a heater. “It’ll taste better with something to wash it down.” He took a bottle from a high cupboard and blew off some dust. “I don’t like to drink alone, but since I have company…”

We moved into the main living area, each with a bowl and a glass, and sat down on the sofa. Hux filled each glass to the brim with a caramel-coloured brew from the bottle.

“What is it?” I asked, raising it to my nose for a sniff.

“The finest of fine Corellian brandies,” he said. “A thirtieth birthday present from…” He paused, uncatching his throat. “My mother,” he finished. “As you can see, I don’t break into it very often.”

I was wary of taking a sip. It seemed wrong to waste the stuff on me, seeing as I couldn’t even tell the difference between vodka and gin. I tried one and coughed as it set fire to my larynx, the flames licking all the way down to my belly.

Hux smiled.

“I think that was my reaction, the first time I tried Corellian brandy,” he said.

“When was that?”

“Twenty first birthday,” he said. “In my father’s study.”

He raised his glass and clinked it with mine.

“To…” He drifted off, his eyes drifting with him into some far distant place.

“What’s gone and what’s still to come,” I murmured, echoing an old toast from my student days.

Hux’s attention snapped back to me.

“Yes,” he agreed. “What’s gone and what’s still to come. Do you remember losing your parents?”

“I don’t remember being told about it,” I said. “But I do remember looking all over the house for them afterwards, because I didn’t believe it. I mean, everything was still there – all their stuff. Hair in my mother’s comb. I thought it must be some kind of weird adult joke. I waited for them to come back for at least a month.”

“Poor little Lilani,” he said softly.

“It was a long time ago,” I said. “I’m over it now, but it took a long time. All those years at the orphanage feeling furious and cheated at not leading the life I should have had. The _wrong_ life.”

“But you still ended up where you should be,” he said. “With me.” He sat staring into his drink for a while. “I wonder what my life would have been, without them.”

“You might not be where you are today.”

“No ‘might not’ about it. They made me. And now they will never see the completion of their grand design.”

I knitted my brow at him. “Grand design?”

He waved a hand. “Oh, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need them any more anyway.”

My drink churned in its glass, agitated by my hand.

“You don’t…?”

He looked me square in the eye.

“In a way, it’s a relief that they’re gone,” he said.

“A relief?”

“They have certain ideas about how their ambitions should be achieved. I don’t agree with them in every particular. At least I don’t have to argue with them any more.”

“You’re achieving their ambitions?”

“Oh yes,” he sighed. “Did you ever see those primitive toys in a museum – the kind with a key that you wind up and then remove?”

“Yes.” I smiled, sipping at my drink.

“I sometimes felt like one of those,” he said. “My entire childhood and youth was the process of winding me up as tight as I could go.”

I didn’t know how to answer. He didn’t seem sad or regretful about it, or angry. Just resigned.

“But they weren’t cruel to you?” I hazarded.

“They did what they had to, to make me what I had to be,” he replied obliquely. Noting my stricken expression, he smiled and rubbed my arm. “Don’t look like that. I don’t regret it. As we’ve said, I wouldn’t be where I am today otherwise.”

“And you’re where you want to be?”

“Absolutely.” He put his glass down. “Actually, no. Where I want to be right now is in bed, with you. Come on.”

I was grateful to abandon the Corellian brandy, which really wasn’t my tipple. I let him take my hand and lead me into the bedroom.

We lay down and twined together. This time there were no buzzes or bleeps; everything was switched off. With laced limbs, we lent each other warmth and affection, our hearts bumping together as our breath rose and fell in harmony.

“Never dwell on what you’ve lost,” said Hux into my hair. “Think instead of what is still to be won. That’s what my father said to me.”

“That’s not bad advice,” I said. “But you are allowed to grieve, you know. It’s healthy. Don’t suppress it.”

“The psych-med speaks,” he said, drawing back to give me a crooked little smile. “But I’m not going to lament or rend my garments, sweetness. It just isn’t my way.”

“Well, however you want to do it, I’m here for you,” I said. “I want to help you get through this.”

He stroked my hair, holding my face in the hollow of his shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here, after all,” he said. “Very glad.” He kissed the top of my head, then nudged my face out of his shoulder by pressing his own face close. Our lips brushed against each other. His brandy-scented breath whispered over my skin. His eyelashes tickled me.

The closeness was sweetly intoxicating; I wanted to breathe him in and absorb him through my pores.

“You’ve forgiven me for suspecting you?” he asked, sliding a long leg over mine and hooking it behind me.

“Yes,” I said. “I know you were in shock.”

“Show me,” he said. “Show me you forgive me.”

I put my hand on his cheek and let my lips edge closer to his. Catching him in a kiss, I felt his throat vibrate into my mouth. He trapped me in his limbs and made me kiss him harder.

I knew about different responses to grief, and I could see that Hux was very much of the ‘life must go on’ school. I knew he needed to reconnect with the world in a physical way. I was more than willing to help him with it.

I let him run his hand up my spine and hold the back of my head, keeping me locked into the kiss. I let him prise apart my lips and slip his tongue between them. I let him push it inside, probing and penetrating my secret places.

We fell into the darkness of each other, two lost souls finding a place to call our own. Our bodies became refuges, desert islands surrounded by stormy seas. The pleasure we found was rooted in pain and loss but achieved in defiance of it. We were stronger for it, and we needed each other.

Garments were shoved aside or wrenched off in our haste to lock the world out and make nothing matter but us. We came together swiftly and silently, skin sticking to skin, mouth pressed to mouth. It felt as if we stole our moments of pleasure from a jealous universe, but they were all the more precious for it.

Afterwards, we lay in a daze, holding each other loosely, waiting for our heartbeats to slow.

“I want to stay with you,” I said.

He ran his fingertips over my shoulder, stroking my arm.

“I can’t guarantee your safety anywhere else,” he said wearily. “So, yes. You’ll have to stay here.”

“You’d better clear out a cupboard for me,” I whispered.

He smiled at that, and kissed me.

“I think we can do better than that. I was thinking more along the lines of chaining you to the bed.”

Another kiss, more passionate, despite our fatigue.

“Fine by me,” I said.

“Seriously, I hope you don’t suffer from claustrophobia,” he said. “Because you won’t be leaving these quarters. Keeping you out of sight will be essential. At the moment, nobody knows you’re still alive apart from Morvits - who won’t live much longer -  Phasma, Ren and two storm troopers. The storm troopers have been told that you were lying and were a common stowaway, so with any luck we can discount them.”

“Who are these Old Order people anyway?”

“Just malcontents left over from the old Empire. The First Order hasn’t embraced them or given them power, so they try to strike at it. But their time is running out. They just bit off far more than they can chew,” he said grimly.

I shivered. “They must have been planning something like this for ages, if Marvits had been working for you for six years.”

“I suppose she’d had the bomb ready for a while, and was just waiting for an excuse to plant it. The affair with Commissar Keldar finally galvanised her into action. But if it hadn’t been that, it would have been something else.” He paused to squeeze me tight. “It was extraordinary luck that you took that nap in her shuttle. If you hadn’t…”

“I know.”

“So you understand that you’ll have to stay in these rooms for the foreseeable future? No sneaking out?”

“I don’t mind being shut in here. It’s better than…it’s better than the alternative.” _Better than life in the compound with your parents._ But I couldn’t say that. It would sound as if I rejoiced in their deaths.

“I’ll try and make it as pleasant as I can for you,” he said. “You’ll be able to pursue your research interests. I’ll try and link you to the entertainment network, if I can find my password details. I’ve never bothered with it myself, though I hear it’s popular with the officers.”

“Don’t you ever do anything but work, work, work?” I teased.

“Sleep, occasionally,” he said. “Probably less often than I should.”

“I warn you, I won’t let you work yourself to death. I’ll make you go to bed at a decent hour.”

“Well, now I have an incentive, I’m sure I’ll spend much more time in bed.”

I wriggled against him with a purr. “Good.”

He was silent for a while.

“Once this Old Order is dealt with, I’ll look for a place for us on some temperate planet. A place where you can live with our children.”

“How long do you think that will take?” I asked, already dismayed at the thought of leaving him.

“It’s hard to say. I don’t think there are many of them, but it depends how scattered they are. Perhaps a month, perhaps six. No longer than that.”

“You’ll kill them all?”

“Of course.”

I bit my lip, turning away from him slightly. I understood how he must be feeling, but I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of bloody vengeance. I knew he’d think this was wishy-washy Republicanism, though, so I didn’t express the thought.

“I won’t see anyone all day long apart from you,” I said instead. “That’ll be weird.”

“And the droids,” he corrected. “A couple of service droids. They’ll do all the domestic work. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

“Are they very sociable?”

He snorted. “They’re droids.”

I thought of Fayell and sighed. I’d give so much to have her with me.

“I’m not really used to being alone,” I said. “I’ve lived most of my life in communal arrangements. The orphanage, the college dorms. Always someone to talk to, always something going on. I used to fantasise about having a room of my own with no drama going on around me…and now I’ve got it.”

“But you think you’ll be lonely?” he interpreted, accurately.

“It’s so _quiet_ in here. It’ll take a lot of getting used to.”

“Well…” he pondered. “I could ask Captain Phasma to visit you when she’s off duty.”

Yikes. I tried to imagine having a heart-to-heart or a wine-fuelled gossip with the silver-armoured slab of menace and failed.

“Captain Phasma?”

“Yes. You know…she’s a woman. I thought you might like another woman to talk to.”

He was trying to be thoughtful, at least. I stroked his hand appreciatively.

“Thanks. It’s just hard to think of her as a woman somehow.”

“Oh, she’d be out of armour. Really, she’s quite human. You might get on with her.”

“Maybe I would,” I said. But I thought it unlikely that a woman who had made me wet my knickers in terror could ever be a bosom buddy.

It didn’t matter though. I’d thought of a way to make some human connections without compromising my safety. I wasn’t sure Hux would approve, but there was no need for him to know.

Tomorrow, I thought. Tomorrow I’ll start looking into it.

 

 

 


	19. Are You Lonely, Are You Lost?

Three days later, I had it all figured out.

Hux had given me an old datapad of his to play with and, by diligent and discreet peeking over his shoulder while he was working, I learned how to access the _Finalizer_ intranet via my account on the entertainment system.

I set up a profile with my ents system ID – a string of characters with no name attached – and lurked for a while, getting the measure of the place and its inhabitants.

Now that was done, I was ready to act.

Hux had worked steadily and unrelentingly through the worst of his grief. He had even gone down to the remains of the compound to meet with the scene investigation team. He had come back grey-faced and silent, but steadfastly stoic.

Our time together had been quiet. We had spent much of it wrapped up together on the bed, listening to each other’s breathing. I knew he needed peace, so I didn’t ask the million questions that were on my mind. They could wait.

Instead, I made tentative, neutral investigations into his state of mind. Was he tired? Had he eaten? Had Commander Ren done anything to piss him off? (I learned on day one that the answer to this was always ‘yes’.) I would offer to massage his temples, and this would always turn into kissing, and then sex – which was definitely Hux’s preferred method of releasing stress.

The sex was tender and comforting rather than down and dirty, because that was what we seemed to need. The world outside was dangerous, but when we were holed up in our private quarters, we had security enough.

“It’s as if you keep me charged,” said Hux, that morning before leaving for work. “You’re performing an invaluable service to the First Order.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I accepted it as the compliment he intended.

“I aim to please,” I said, watching him pull on his gloves.

“You succeed,” he said. “I should have married you years ago.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to then,” I said. “I was too young.”

“Perhaps.” He came over to the bed and bent to kiss me. “Don’t play that silly shoot ‘em up game all day. Some of my best officers have lost weeks of their life to it.”

“I was thinking of resuming my research, actually,” I said.

“Are you sure you feel up to it?”

I nodded. “I think the shock’s worn off now. I feel ready to get back to work.”

“Good girl. I’ll see you in twelve hours.”

He glanced at himself in the mirror, straightened up his jacket, slicked fingers through his pristine hair and marched off.

I shut down the game straightaway and logged into the intranet. I had twelve clear hours to myself, more than enough time to get this show on the road.

I went to the chat forum and opened a new thread.

‘Do you need to talk? Qualified listener offers a non-judgmental ear.’ I took a deep breath and continued. ‘Life on board a battleship like _Finalizer_ brings unique stresses and strains. Sometimes those stresses can build up until they threaten to blow you apart. Don’t get to that point – defuse the tension by talking to a sympathetic, anonymous listener. Whatever’s going on in your life, you can tell me in complete confidence. Message me for more information.”

I read it through three times and let my finger hover above the ‘send’ button.

Oh Sith, was this a really bad idea? How much trouble would I be in if Hux found out?

But I wasn’t doing anything wrong, in the sense of breaking any official rules. I doubted there was any prohibition order surrounding any member of staff wanting to set up as a voluntary counsellor. What could he object to, really?

I ignored the voice that told me he _just would_ and hit ‘send’.

Immediately I shut down the intranet and opened my research folder, my heart leaping up into my throat to choke me.

I’d done it. Now I’d have to live with any consequences. I told myself that nobody would be interested – and every hour, when I checked back, my presumption was proved correct.

Until, the sixth time I checked, there was a private message for me.

I clicked it open with shaking hands.

“Who are you?” asked the message, from another string of random characters.

“You won’t know me,” I replied. “I’m not an officer.” I sat chewing my lip, wondering how to explain my presence on the _Finalizer_ in a way that would reassure without arousing suspicion. “I’m employed directly by…”

There was a loud buzzing from the apartment door. I shut down my datapad in a cold sweat. Had the messager tracked me down? Was I about to be unmasked, accused, assassinated?

I leapt off the bed and headed into the main living space. One of the droids was at the entryphone.

“Captain Phasma requests access,” it said, turning to me. “Are you willing to receive her, my lady?”

“Oh!” I said. “I don’t know. What does she want?”

The droid spoke into the microphone. “Lady Hux would like to know your business, Captain.”

“General Hux sent me up with a bottle of wine. This is my free time I’m giving up here.” She sounded a mite wounded, and I felt guilty despite the off-putting mental image of the giant metallic warrior in my head.

“Let her in,” I said. “If you’re sure it’s her,” I added anxiously, only too aware of the danger should she prove to be an imposter.

“Oh, it’s definitely her,” said the droid. “Her voice is programmed into the recognition software as an approved visitor.” He punched the keypad and the door slid open.

I blinked.

No metal armour, no weaponry, no eye slits. Just an attractive, statuesque blonde in a gold jumpsuit and quite a lot of jewellery.

“Captain…Phasma,” I said haltingly.

“I know, I know,” she said, breezing in. “I always get a reaction when I take off my helmet. The old Imperial senators are the worst. ‘Oh my dear,’ she said, stagily creepy. ‘If only I’d known what was beneath all that armour’.” She stuck a finger in her mouth, as if to make herself gag.

“Ugh,” I sympathised. “Must make you want to aim a swift kick to the crotch.”

She laughed, an honest, hearty laugh.

“If _only_ it wouldn’t land me up on a charge,” she said. “Droid, uncork us, will you?”

She held out the bottle and collapsed on to the sofa once the droid had taken it. To my surprise, I found myself liking her.

“So, you really were Hux’s wife,” she said, eyeing me candidly. “I apologise for the awkward introduction. I thought you were a stowaway, or worse.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I know how it must have looked. It was just such a stupid thing to do, falling asleep on the shuttle like that.”

“Not that stupid, under the circumstances,” she said, her expression sobering.

“Well, no, as things turned out.” I shivered. “I still feel as if I shouldn’t be here. There’s an empty grave somewhere with my name marked on it.”

“Don’t think like that. I’m pretty sure there’ll be a mass grave for the Old Order soon enough. Hux won’t let this go until he’s eliminated every last one of them.”

“Do you think so?”

“I’ve known him a long time. He has the most extraordinary focus. Once his mind is set on something, he doesn’t rest until he’s achieved it.”

“He doesn’t rest anyway,” I said with a wry laugh, accepting a glass of wine from the droid. “At least, not much.”

“He is a notorious workaholic,” said Phasma, giving me a cool look over the top of her wine glass. “Perhaps you’ll be able to help him with that.”

“I’m trying. I think he’s getting more sleep now.”

“Or spending more time in bed, at least,” she said with a wink.

Heat rushed into my face and neck.

“Sorry,” she said. “I spoke out of turn. It’s just, you know, I’ve been trying to imagine Hux in an…amorous mode…and I just can’t.” A desperate little giggle escaped her. She was redder than me now, taking refuge in her wine.

Her embarrassment tempered mine, and I felt it recede.

“You’d be surprised,” I said.

“I really am sorry. I’m sure he’s lovely. It’s just that – kriff, don’t tell him about this, by the way – it’s just that Commander Ren does these little scenes…skits, I suppose…of what he’d be like…they’re very funny…a bit cruel, really. Oh dear. You won’t tell him, will you? I shouldn’t have said anything really.”

I shook my head. “Commander Ren and Hux don’t get on, do they?”

“That’s one way of putting it. You aren’t offended, are you? He doesn’t mean any harm; it’s just a joke. Because Hux is so stiff and straight-laced, you know. It’s amusing to try and imagine him…”

“Yes, I can understand that,” I said, and I could. Hux’s work persona was quite alarming compared to the off duty version I’d met at the compound. “So you never see him relax at all?”

“No,” she said. “He doesn’t socialise except at formal events. You’re implying that he does relax sometimes – is that true?”

“Sometimes,” I said, smiling.

“Well, that’s quite a relief,” she said. “There’s a joke the older troopers play on the new intake every  year – they tell them he’s a droid. It takes them ages to work out he isn’t. Some of them probably still believe it. Oh, kriff, I _have_ offended you now. But, look, you’re having a very good effect on him. I think he’d have made himself ill over this attack, if you hadn’t been here.”

“I’m not offended,” I said. “It’s really interesting to hear how he’s perceived on here. When I first met him, he was so charming and gallant, in a kind of old-fashioned way. It was only later that I started to realise he was a bit control-freaky. But we’d hardly had any time at all to get to know each other before this…dreadful thing…happened. I’m still finding out who he is.”

“The marriage was arranged? You didn’t know each other beforehand?”

“Not at all. I had no idea he even existed, although I’m told I met him as a very small child.”

“How _fascinating_.” Phasma stared at me. “I didn’t think these arrangements still went on. I know they did in the past, of course, but… So did your parents broker it for you before you were born, or have I strayed into fairytale territory?”

“No, it wasn’t like that. My parents died when I was four. There wasn’t any kind of formal arrangement, but they did know the Huxes.”

“And the Huxes made you…some kind of offer…or…?”

“Yes, that’s just it. They made me an offer. They thought I was suitable for Taran, so…that’s what happened.”

“And you were fine with that?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Having to explain it this way to somebody unfamiliar with the circumstances was making it sound even madder than it really was. I didn’t particularly want to tell Phasma I had grown up in the New Republic as a Tarkin, but I had a feeling she’d winkle the truth out of me in the end.

“Yes, pretty much, I couldn’t see any reason why not,” I said briskly. “I mean, Hux is good-looking and wealthy with a stellar career and all that. Why wouldn’t I?”

“No, well, I suppose when you put it like that, it does seem like a no-brainer.”

“Anyway,” I said, pouring myself a top up, “I don’t want to talk about me. I want to know all about life on board this ship. Tell me how you ended up here.”

“Not much to tell,” she said. “My folks were all stormtroopers, so I followed in their footsteps.”

“You mean they were stormtroopers back in the Empire days?” I leant towards her, astonished by the thought of stormtroopers having babies.

“Yes, they were, and they won a lot of medals for their service,” she said proudly. “Of course, once the Empire broke up, they were forcibly retired and went away to a little planet in the Raedon system to run a smallholding and have children, including me. Once the First Order got off the ground, they were keen to rejoin, and sent us all off, one by one, to train at the new elite military academy.”

“What if there’d been no First Order? What would you have done then?”

She shrugged. “I’ve no idea. I’m a good sportswoman – I guess I’d have gone for something in that line. Throwing events were my speciality.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re brilliant at them. And any sport that involves shooting hoops.”

She laughed. “Yes, I do have a natural advantage there. What about you? What would you be doing?”

“I’m a psychology researcher now, so I’d still be doing that.”

Phasma looked wary.

“Oh, you’re not going to do that thing, are you?” I said in mock-dismay. “Where you ask me if I’ve been analysing you and go all quiet on me?”

“Well…you haven’t, have you?”

“I promise I haven’t. I don’t have the expertise or experience to be able to do that anyway. Your secrets are safe.”

“Good to know. So you’re researching now? On the _Finalizer_?”

“That’s the plan. Hux’s father…my father-in-law…got me access to all kinds of materials.” I paused. “Kriff, it’s _weird_ to think that he’s dead now. I only spoke to him…”

I swallowed. Phasma put a hand on my forearm.

“It’s OK, I’m OK,” I said. “I barely knew him anyway. It just makes me think about what Hux is going through…not that he ever lets on.”

“Our inscrutable General,” said Phasma. “Honestly, I think he’ll be fine. Especially now he has you to come home to after a long shift.”

I was grateful for her opinion. “I hope I can be good for him,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sure you are. He needs a pressure valve in his life, if you’ll forgive the blunt image. I’m happy for him.”

“Thanks.” I put down my glass and took a snack from the tray the droid had placed in front of us. “What about you? Is there anyone special?”

“Me? Pfft, no. I’m always working. When would I meet anyone?”

“At work?” I suggested. “It’s not unknown…”

“I know that, but it’s very much frowned upon. Staff relationships upset the balance of the ship, so they’re strongly discouraged. I don’t see anyone at home except brothers and cousins. So…”

“There’s nobody you’re even interested in? If things were different?”

She flushed, very delicately for such a robust woman, and picked a tiny dot of chilli off her mini tartlet.

“There’s no point thinking about it,” she said softly, then ate the tartlet, as if placing a full stop on the conversation. “Anyway, look, it’s been lovely to meet you, but I’m afraid I have rather a lot to do. I haven’t had a day cycle shift break in over a week, so I must run errands while everything’s open. Thank you for the company – Hux said something about dinner sometime soon.”

“That would be nice,” I said, as she rose to leave. “Thanks again for not shooting me.”

She laughed.

“A pleasure. And I doubt I’d have ever heard the last of it if I had!”

The droid showed her out. I waited a few minutes until the coast was clear, then reached again for my datapad.

There were several other messages now, all asking who I was. Was I an official counsellor? Did they know me as a colleague?

I replied to all, saying that they wouldn’t know me. I was operating from a remote location, on a voluntary basis, to further my counselling skills.

“Are you security cleared?” asked one.

“Yes,” I said, assuming that being married to the General conferred automatic clearance on me.

“This is 100% confidential?” said another. “Nothing said would ever be repeated?”

“You have my solemn word,” I said. “Unless you threatened to commit a crime, I would never break the sacred contract between listener and client.”

There was a long silence.

Then someone posted, “Interesting. Is this approved by the General?”

I laughed guiltily to myself, then posted, “It has the Hux seal of approval.”

Because that wasn’t a lie, strictly speaking.

“Feel free to message me privately for more information. You don’t have to tell me your name or staff number. It can be completely anonymous.”

I waited. And waited.

Sith, what if somebody had double checked with Hux? What if one of these guys _was_ Hux? But he had said himself that he never used the social networking or entertainments systems. And he was so perma-busy and unapproachable, I couldn’t imagine anyone bothering to ask him about this.

A notification flashed in the top left hand corner of my screen. A private message!

I clicked and read: “So you aren’t a member of _Finalizer_ staff? Does that mean you don’t really know who any of us are?”

“That’s right,” I said. “You’re complete strangers to me. If you’d like to communicate by voice, I won’t recognise that either. But I’ll leave that up to you, if you decide to use the service.”

“Are you male or female?”

The question threw me slightly, but I gave them the answer straight away.

“Why do you ask?” I typed.

“No reason,” the person replied, then, after a pause, “Actually, yes, there’s a reason. I’m more likely to want to talk to you if you’re female, to hear a female voice that isn’t yelling orders at me. I don’t get much of that.”

I was itching to ask if they were one of Phasma’s troops, but I held back.

“So do you want to…” I typed and then had to stop abruptly as the door clicked open and Hux strode in.

I dropped the datapad in my panic and had to scoop it up from the floor and switch it into neutral mode before Hux caught a glimpse of what I was doing.

“Have you been on that game _all day_?” he asked witheringly.

“No,” I flustered, jumping up to bestow the ‘good day at the office, darling?’ kiss he expected from me.

“I should hope not. Into the bedroom with you, then,” he said, clapping his hands and turning me to face in the right direction. “We have things to discuss.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be updating for a while now - off on holidays on Friday, and I've just reached that end-of-term state where everything, including my brain, has ground to a total halt. Back on the 7th August, so I hope I'll be updating as soon as possible after that. A bientôt!


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